Random Rogues
by Hastseoltoi
Summary: Series of short-short stories based upon characters and situations in the Rogue Squadron comics, graphic novels, and novel series. (not slash)
1. Acceptable

*Notes: I issued a challenge to myself recently because I kept putting off writing the stories that were n my head. My challenge was to write at least one short-short story every day and to base them on a list of randomly generated words. I started with twenty five words and the idea that for the first month every story would be related to Rogue Squadron. I have been posting them daily on Archive of Our Own, but thought that I would start publishing them here as well. I know that not all of them are so great, but I am happy with several of them and the challenge is working to get me writing every day. So please be kind, as they may show the rust on my writing, but I do not want to give this up.*

Acceptable

Acceptable. He always hated that word; he was acceptable, his efforts were acceptable. The word was the bane of his early performance reviews when he was at the Academy, and no matter how much improvement he showed, they still called him 'merely acceptable'.

To hear the same word from someone, a superior officer, in the Rebellion made him blanch white and stammer his first response. "How was saving lives, minimizing loss, and completing a mission merely acceptable? I don't know how much more you want from me."

When all he got was a shrug in return he dropped it, but didn't forget it. He was good at what he did; flying missions, ground missions, whatever was asked of him he had done. Occasionally he may have crashed, and he was not the only one to do that, but so far he was still alive and he was the only one who had those mistakes pointed out to him over and over again. He joked about it himself sometimes, trying to dispel that little bitterness at being seen as less than his fellows.

Maybe that was what acceptable had come to mean for him; he was in the company of the elite and had done as much as any of them, but somehow while their individual accomplishments were listed and acknowledged, it was his faults that were always brought up instead. He worked with men and women that he considered to be his friends, and in some were his best friends, and yet he felt as though they never quite saw or understood him.

It had been said many times that pilots had the biggest egos, and he didn't doubt that for a second. They all wanted acknowledgment for their skills and talents, their daring feats during missions, and ideas that saved the day and lives. Was it so bad that he wanted the same as all of the rest, and not to been deemed merely acceptable in comparison? He had thought that all he had ever wanted out of life was to fly, but maybe he wanted to be seen as special as well.

Just once he would like to feel as though he were the best at something, even if it were only in the opinion of one other person. He wanted the gold star and an exceeds expectations on his next review, even if the attempt killed him, because he couldn't live with acceptable any longer.


	2. Pancakes

There was finally silence in the base, and it was difficult to wake up when he had been running on adrenalin and caf fumes for the last several weeks, but even Wes Janson had some rules to obey. He grumbled all the way to the mess hall, knowing that it would take more than just hot caf and a bowl of grains to get him going this morning.

He met Hobbie in the hall outside of the mess, and his friend grumbled something that might have been actual words before they entered the room together. Klivian didn't look any more awake than Wes felt, and so he shrugged off the greeting and focused on getting something warm to eat. It was early enough that the line was small and the cooks were still cheerful, so he grabbed a tray and pulled Hobbie into the line behind him.

There was supposed to be a briefing this morning, which explained why Wedge was already seated across the room and looking as though he hadn't yet gone to bed. Wes snorted, that was another reason to add to his "Why I should avoid command promotions as long as possible list." He suspected that Hobbie had a similar list when his friend turned to look at their commanding officer and grumbled again. Or maybe Hobbie was just unhappy with having to get up so early after they had just finished a very lengthy hyper-space jump in their X-Wings.

He still wasn't in the mood for talking when he reached the breakfast counter, but the servers were all being friendly so Wes pasted a bright smile on and flirted with the young non-coms as they offered him food. He had learned early on that you always stayed on the good side of the people who controlled the food supplies. The young women behind the counter seemed to appreciate his attention, blushing and offering him the good stuff. Hobbie was almost as lucky as they took pity on his half-asleep disposition and filled his plate for him.

Wes had to grab Hobbie's sleeve again to steer him towards the table where Wedge, Gavin and Inyri already sat. He shook his head at the group, "Who did we annoy at Command to deserve these early mornings?"

Wedge squinted at him for a moment before deciding not to answer, sipping his caf instead.

Gavin and Inyri just looked at his plate with astonishment, "You can't possibly eat all of those, can you?"

Wes looked down at his breakfast, a towering stack of pancakes smothered in sweet syrup, cream and berries. "Are you kidding? This is the only reason I'll be able to get through the day."


	3. Tick

Tick. Tick. Tick. He was starting to think that the quarters he had been assigned had the loudest clock on base. The horrible ticking sound it made as the minute hand passed each small hatch mark had kept him from sleep the night before and every time he woke up it caught his attention again. Sleep was one of the few things he was allowed to do without interference from security, so he resented a piece of tech that was preventing him from falling into its escape.

Tycho sat up with a deep sigh, and turned to glare at the clock and then at his pillow. At least the pillow was within reach and he punched it, trying to get it into a more comfortable shape before laying down and wrapping his arm around it again. He closed his eyes, but the ticking continued to annoy him and sleep wouldn't come.

He knew it wasn't just the noise from the clock; he had slept in far more uncomfortable places and shared rooms with more annoying distractions, like Wes Janson. There were just too many things to think about, and he was powerless to do anything without help from Wedge. Tycho could only blame himself for all of the restrictions he had agreed to live by, but it was important for him to be involved in this training, and these missions with Rogue Squadron. The only alternative seemed to be prison, as long as General Salm had a say in his fate.

It was just so much easier to agree to those restrictions when he hadn't been living with them for very long. After a few weeks the boredom was killing him. He knew most of the new pilots were spending time together in the rec halls and gymnasiums, but he was spending most of his time alone in his room. He wasn't allowed to have a terminal or techpad, even if it was limited for read-only, and when he did have permission to contact friends everything was read before he could send it, so it felt odd talking about personal things or memories.

His friends would have understood, of course, and that wouldn't have stopped them from communicating with him in return. He was sure Wes would have joked about something inappropriate, getting them both in trouble, if given a chance. Maybe he was lonely too. He missed meals in the mess with the squad, working out with Wedge, taking Winter out for dinner and dancing, and simply being able to leave his room to spend time with people who didn't watch him like he might break at any second.

Tycho rolled onto his other side, staring up at the clock as it ticked away the minutes. He kept telling himself that things would get better, that once he had proven his loyalty again (and again, and again) that things would get better and the ticking of that clock wouldn't be his only company, but lying to himself was not so easy when the ticking filled all of the silence in his thoughts.


	4. Sore

He groaned softly as he pulled himself out of the X-Wing's cockpit, leaning on the ship a little more than he would have in the past. It was one of those small signs that he was getting older, but he really didn't mind as it also meant he was still alive enough to feel it. Wedge took his helmet off and tossed it down to one of the techs grinning up at him.

The feeling of relief after this last run seemed to be infectious, and the ground crews were scurrying around helping each of the pilots. That was a good sign, and he accepted a small towel to wipe the sweat from his brow before rubbing the back of his neck. He was sore all over; he always had his grav lowered while flying, but in the middle of battle he was still knocked around a bit inside the cockpit, muscles tensed as he focused on a target, and again when he saw his pilots in impossible situations.

Wes shouted something, still in his X-Wing further inside the hanger, and Wedge could hear Tycho's softer reply. It made him laugh as he climbed down the ladder which had been brought for him. He was sore all over, but all of his pilots were accounted for and uninjured, and their mission had been a success. It was a good day to be alive. He would take every opportunity to celebrate with his friends and fellows, though pain and sweat, and sometimes tears, might be present he would take those and know that it was all worth it to be here in this moment.


	5. Receive

Hobbie was used to getting all sorts of looks from his fellow pilots when he announced some dire prediction of doom and gloom, and knowing nods when he made an insightful comment during a briefing or mission, but he had never gotten such looks of concern or alarm as he did when he started laughing in the middle of the mess hall. He might have to do this again just for the reaction.

It wasn't even his fault. He had been enjoying his dinner, half-listening to Corran and Gavin as they talked about a sports team, and watching Wes as his friend flirted with one of the female mechanics across the room. Hobbie had been feeling mellow all day; it had been a very good day filled with sims and minor repair work on his X-Wing, and after dinner there was a sabaac game in one of the lounges that he planned to join or watch. What he was watching now was just as good though.

He could tell that Wes was flirting by the way he leaned toward the woman and made grand gestures, and he could tell that his friend wasn't getting very far by the look on her face. Wes didn't seem to notice that look, however, and Hobbie must have made some noise of humor because Corran and Gavin both paused in their conversation to look at him before continuing.

"Something wrong with the mashed veggies tonight?" Wedge nudged his arm with an elbow and Hobbie looked away from the spectacle across the hall.

"Nope, they are actually pretty good tonight." He almost smiled at the concerned tone, remembering when the quality of meals had been one of the favored topics of conversation in the mess. His attention as caught again almost immediately as Wes leaned too close to the girl and she practically fell off her chair to avoid being touched. Hobbie snorted, stopping a laugh, and Tycho leaned back to look at him from the other side of Wedge. No one else seemed to notice what Wes was doing, and he didn't want them to ruin his enjoyment of the little scene so he ignored the look and Tycho went back to his meal.

He didn't know why seeing Wes flirt and fail was so funny to him this time; he had seen the same at numerous bars and cantinas over the years. He also wasn't sure what the woman was saying to Wes, but she didn't seem friendly and Wes didn't seem to be getting the message, and for some reason that was striking his sense of humor this evening more than it usually would. He shook his head as she stabbed her food with a fork and gestured for Wes to leave, and then sat up straighter as her friend leaned in close to whisper something. He wished he knew what she had said, because the look on the woman's face instantly changed from annoyance to calculating whimsy.

If Wes noticed the change he must not have realized its meaning because he remained seated and continued his flirtations. He seemed to think he was getting somewhere when the woman leaned closer and touched the back of his neck, but Hobbie was holding his breath waiting to see what would happen. He was not disappointed when she suddenly pulled the shirt away from Wes's back and dumped a scoop of the mashed veggies inside, slapping it firmly with her hand before she got up and left the table.

Hobbie felt as though he had just received the best gift of the day, and he couldn't help himself. He laughed, out loud, and even though all of the pilots at his table turned to stare at him with alarm over his sudden departure of sanity, he couldn't stop laughing.


	6. Carpenter

It was one of those bases that didn't offer much in the way of comfort, or recreation, or even protection from the wind. The only thing they did seem to have was a lot of time, natural resources, and untrained labor from every person currently living on the base. There was a small Rebel cell from the local system, and they offered a lot of support when it came to cutting trees and creating boards for building, but they had more enthusiasm than skill when it came to putting those boards together to create barracks.

After Yavin the Rebellion leaders had tried to find more worlds with ruins that they could exploit as a quick shelter, but this last move had required them to leave quickly without the chance to do as much scouting, and so they were in a forest trying to make the best of it. Some of the Y-Wing and X-Wing squadrons were getting flying time by doing voluntary scouts of other nearby systems, but Rogue Squadron was told that they had to rest after flying several dangerous missions back to back.

However, they were not actually getting any rest, as they were expected to contribute to the building efforts. Wedge had once thought about a possible career as an architect, but he had grander dreams than building the most basic huts and barracks. All they needed was a place that would block wind and rain, and hopefully not fall apart within a couple months, and that was all they were going to get with a crew of pilots building it.

He winced as he heard Luke yelp; the young leader may have been a Jedi-in-training and an excellent pilot but he had trouble with a simple hammer and nail scenario. On the other hand, Wedge had been sure that Wes would be building crazy angles and wasting time, but his work was actually very organized and looked sound. Janson had claimed that he assisted his father in the building of a barn when he was a kid, and Wedge was starting to believe it.

As his short break came to an end, Wedge sighed and picked up his own hammer again, exchanging looks of chagrin with his fellow Rogues, "Did you ever think that you'd join the Rebellions and become a carpenter?"


	7. Afraid

At the Academy they were told that if they were afraid that it meant that they were weak; that they should use the righteousness of their actions to be a shield against fear. They were told that they should not fear for their own lives because it was better to think of themselves as having already died whenever they were launched in their fighters, and fearing the inevitable would only make it happen that much faster. He never bought into those beliefs though, and had trouble with the idea that the Empire had any righteousness within its doctrines long before he graduated.

Derek Klivian could admit that he was sometimes afraid. He had a healthy confidence in his ability as a pilot, and soldier, for the Rebellion, and he trusted in his fellow pilots in Rogue Squadron to have his back when they went into battle together. Usually he could use his fear to keep himself sharp and focused in the midst of firefights. Sometimes it was that fear which prevented him from being too focused and missing something that was on his tail.

Fear for his own life wasn't something that he often felt though, and he didn't like the idea of flying with people so willing to die without a good reason for the sacrifice. Flying was what made him feel most alive, and most of the fear he had on missions was for others not himself. He was afraid of losing his friends, his fellows, the people they were fighting for and protecting. So often the odds facing them were very bad for their survival, especially when he had just defected and began flying for the Rebellion.

The Rebellion had done something for him from the very beginning that made him want to give more and be more, in service of the cause and those people he had thrown in with, than anything the Empire had ever engendered in him. Even if some had questioned his loyalties when he and Biggs Darklighter had brought the Rand Ecliptic to the Rebels, there were more who were willing to accept him and bring him into the fold. He had met people in the Rebellion who were like brothers to him now, and his fear was in letting them down, or letting them die.

They didn't often talk about it in explicit terms, but every time they were in the midst of battle and something nearly happened to Wedge he could hear that fear reflected in Wes's voice, or Tycho's, just as it was when they were in a tight spot, or he was. Tycho might have been the philosophical one, and Wedge was the one to compartmentalize everything. Wes was most likely to ignore those feelings and gloss over it with a back-slap and joke, but Hobbie was the one who saw it all, knew what it was and kept his peace on the subject because it would be too painful to express such feelings and then lose any one of them. It was love. He loved them like brothers. He knew that they felt the same.

His greatest fear was to lose them in battle or due to drifting apart as they left to finally have lives outside of the fighting and wars that had been the background for almost the entirety of their lives. He was afraid that there would be nothing out there for him to go to if he stopped flying, no one to cling to anymore, and that ultimately he would be a survivor with nothing left to hold onto except memories. He was afraid and that was what drove him to fight with his every breath because he was fighting for the lives of his friends.


	8. Suggest

When she was growing up there were a lot of people making suggestions on how she should live her life, and what she should be doing with her talents. For Bothans a suggestion from someone in authority or with power was the same as getting ordered to do something. They just crouched it in polite language with the illusion of free will.

When she joined Rogue Squadron she received many orders, and lived by the New Republic military rules. When someone made a suggestion, usually it was in the spirit of friendly conversation and they had no expectation that she would follow it any more than she wanted. Asyr really appreciated the simple straightforwardness of human thinking. The orders were direct, the suggestions malleable, and the people took her at her own terms.

Accepting orders from someone she respected felt liberating when compared to the forced acquiescence to suggestions made by those who were playing games with power. When Commander Antilles asked her to do something during a mission, she never worried that he had ulterior motives beyond the mission parameters. She could trust him, and she could trust her fellow Rogues.

That trust gave her a freedom, so that she knew exactly where to tell Borsk Fey'lya where he could stick his next suggestion on how she should live her life.


	9. Materialistic

Materialistic

It was hard to have very many personal belongings when one was a pilot for the Rebellion. They had little personal space when on a base or a ship, and there was little in the way of storage space in their fighters. Most had one or two decently sized bags to store their clothing, toiletries, and a few remembrances. If they were lucky those things didn't get lost during an attack or the move to a new base.

Wedge had a few things, like a holo of his parents, that traveled everywhere with him just to prevent it from being lost. When Hobbie defected with the mutiny on the Rand Ecliptic he had been able to bring all of his personal effects from the Academy, but that didn't amount to much as it was only what the Academy had allowed for him. It was the same for Tycho, and the few things he kept were all that he had left of his family too.

It was a similar story for many of the pilots who had left another life behind them; quick escapes, changing one's identity or defecting didn't give them much time to pack more than what could be carried in an unobtrusive bag, if they could take anything at all. Some joined the Rebellion with nothing more than what they wore and whatever happened to be in their pockets at the time. Having nothing, or very little, made them hold onto what things they did manage to save, but also to not put too much importance in a lot of the small possessions that passed from hand to hand several times; money and trinkets from the worlds they stayed on so briefly.

It wasn't uncommon to have a favorite shirt or a good pair of boots, and a decent knife or blaster often became part of a pilot's personal stash of goods, but they didn't spend a lot of time gathering the things that civilians might have been collecting for homes and future. There was no reason to buy furniture for a room in a base that might be home for only a few months, especially when those rooms came furnished with the basics in crates and ejector seats and the pilot spent more time in their cockpit than their bed.

It was also hard to have something special when there were such good odds for it being lost; Wes had once carried the quilt his grandmother had made for him from base to base until it was lost when the shuttle carrying non-essential items was destroyed in an attack. He hadn't brought anything with that he couldn't afford to lose since then, even though he had been offered another quilt by his aunt.

They were nomads and Rebel nomads could not afford to be materialistic like the planet-bound Imperials. So they held onto more important things than trinkets; each other and their cause.


	10. Dangerous

He was in a dangerous mood. Wes Janson was known for being many things by different people. To some he was a prankster who could both amuse and annoy, to some he was a brother-in-arms that could be counted on to have your back in any situation, and to some he was simply death incarnate. At the moment he was in a very dangerous mood and it was not good for the Stormies who were cornering him.

There was never a standard mission when it came to Rogue Squadron, even when they had similar planning profiles. He was part of a ground team sent to scout and paint targets for the rest of the squad, who were flying above. He volunteered, which was the first mistake, but when Hobbie had volunteered what was he supposed to do but follow his wing-man into battle? It had actually been going well and they had gotten into position without being sighted, but while locking in the last of the targets one of the Imperial base guards had decided to take a short break in the trees. He probably didn't even know what he had wandered into before being shot.

It wasn't the sound of the shot that had caused the alert, but the combination of events starting with the shot and the first runs of the X-Wings on the base generators. Someone in the base must have had more than two brain cells to rub together, and they put the base on high alert, scrambled the teams of ground defenses and started shooting back at the Rogues who were in the air. It was standard as far as things going wrong, and Hobbie had made a wry remark that Wes had shrugged off at the time.

They had been pushed back away from the base, into unfamiliar territory, and that had gotten them cornered. Wedge knew their situation, but he and the others above had enough to deal with in the air, so it was up to the ground team to fight their way back to the extraction point. Wes had lead and he was not going to fail in his duty to his people. That put him in a very dangerous mood, and he let that carry him along, focusing his attention and his natural targeting ability.

Everything narrowed to the line of his blaster-sight and he shot over and over, leaning around a tree trunk while Hobbie grabbed his waist to keep him from over-balancing. He cleared the field with several well-placed shots and they were able to move again. His back was slapped by the others as they walked around him to get out of their blind, stepping over the bodies of the Stormies he had shot.

Hobbie lingered with him for a moment, "You know, I'm really glad we're on the same side." His friend handed him a canteen of water, "C'mon, we've still got to get back out there."

Wes took a drink, and a deep breath, before following; he was a dangerous man.


	11. Fortunate

He was going to lean back into the couch cushions, but stopped and tried to make them more comfortable again first. Already having tried punching them into compliance, this time he chose to squeeze them from every possible angle. However, it didn't work any better than the punches. The old couches in the pilot's lounge had seen better days and most of the stuffing that had been in the cushions had died a long time before.

Hobbie sighed and he leaned back anyway, letting his head fall against the top edge of the couch. He wanted to be back in his own bunk, even if they were not the most comfortable beds they were better than the lounge furniture. His second choice would have been to leave base for the night, but early morning duties prevented that from happening.

"Are you the victim of young love again Hobbie, or just trying to torture your back?" Wes came around to the front of the couch, pushing his legs aside to sit next to him.

"I should be mad at you for putting Avan in my room. Or I should just ask Xarcee if I could room with her on nights like this."

"I didn't know Xarcee was your type." Wes cringed as Hobbie threatened him with one of the flattened throw pillows, and laughed. "We can't all be fortunate in love I guess."

"Wes, please. This is the third night this week and I'm tired. If I weren't so nice-" He took a deep breath. "I'm saying no next time, and Avan and Feylis can just stay in her room. Xarcee is probably smart enough to tell them no from the start."

Wes laughed again and slapped Hobbie's shoulder, "C'mon, you can bunk with me tonight. I'll share the blankets and it'll be just like Hoth."


	12. Enormous

Sometimes it felt like he had an enormous weight on his shoulders. It was the weight of history, of honor, of responsibility, and the expectations of so many in the New Republic. As burdens went, it was one he gladly carried. He couldn't imagine doing anything more important with his life than to fly with Rogue Squadron.

When Gavin was a kid he heard tales about Rogue Squadron, and they were held up as the ultimate that any pilot could hope for becoming. Part of that was the squad itself; the quality of the pilots that had been a part of the squadron since its beginning and the missions they accomplished against impossible odds. Another part of it, for him, was the way his Uncle Huff used the squad and its reputation to glorify his cousin Biggs, and the sacrifice Biggs had made at Yavin.

When he had the chance to try for a spot on the new roster Commander Antilles was putting together Gavin had hopes of being selected; he knew he was skilled and no false modesty was going to help him get what he wanted so he did his best and let fate take the rest. Being so young he wasn't sure if he would be chosen, or if age would be a block to overcome, so it became an enormous honor and a thrill to become part of Rogue Squadron despite his inexperience in years. Being accepted upon his skills made it easier when the others sometimes treated him as though he were still just a kid.

The reputation of the squad still sat heavily on their shoulders though, and Wedge had been correct when he told them that the legends who had died as Rogues would always be held up as unreachable ideals. No matter how many missions he flew as a Rogue people like his Uncle Huff would still define his heroism against that of Biggs and the other glorious dead. He knew that those who had died were not necessarily better pilots, more experienced, nor were they as perfect as loving memories might suggest, but he didn't mind that burden of history being places upon him as long as he could live, and fly, and carry on in the duty of protection for the New Republic. One day he might die in service and be remembered fondly by family and friends, and people all over the Republic, and the enormity of that would never be lost upon him.


	13. Cannon

Wedge entered the base kitchens quietly, watching the two officers who were peeling tubers for a few moments. Hobbie was there because he was supposed to be doing punishment duty. After being late for sims for the third day in a row, Wedge didn't really have a choice but to assign him to some tedious task on the base. The only surprising thing was that Wes had not been the cause of the punishment this time.

It didn't sound like it was such a chore for Hobbie to be peeling tubers though, and he was being helped by a young woman in uniform. Wedge cleared his throat, and stood up straight as they both leapt to attention, dropping their vegetables and peelers in the bins.

"At ease." He walked around the pair, "Are you on punishment duty as well, Lieutenant?"

"Lieutenant Rhade, Sir, and no, Sir, I am not on punishment duty." She was standing at ease, but Wedge could still see the tension in her posture.

"Then why are you here, Lieutenant Rhade?"

She glanced at Hobbie and then away quickly, "It was my fault that Lieutenant Klivian was late for sims today, Sir. He assisted me with some of my SpecOps equipment, and I felt that it would only be fair for me to help him in return."

Wedge paused again, staring at Hobbie for several long seconds until his friend flinched under the scrutiny. "Is that right, Lieutenant Klivian?"

"Yes, Commander, I helped Lieutenant Rhade carry one of her cannons to the hanger." He looked like he wanted to add something else, but the way his eyes flicked toward Rhade and back to Wedge showed that it wasn't something he wanted to say in front of her.

"That doesn't excuse your lack of punctuality yesterday or the day before, but I will accept that as a reason for her to assist in kitchen duty. Just don't be late again; helping one another is a fine thing, but not at the expense of your own duty." Wedge nodded, feeling as though he had been suitably stuffy in front of the SpecOps soldier. "Carry on."

He walked stiffly out of the kitchen and stopped just around the door frame to take a deep breath and relax. It sounded as though the pair of Lieutenants were doing the same.

"You don't really have to stay and help with the rest, if you don't want." Hobbie sounded a bit subdued, but that wasn't unusual.

"I do want to stay and help, but there is something else I want too." Her voice sounded lighter now that Wedge was out of the room, "I want you to talk to me while we peel these, and to meet me for a drink tomorrow night."

"I think I could do both of those things, if you're sure."

Wedge smirked, covering a laugh, and started down the hall again. He was going to have to tell Tycho about this; trust Hobbie to find a girl who could shoot cannons and peel tubers.


	14. Cream

"Something is wrong with Hobbie." Wes sounded so uncharacteristically serious that Wedge had to glance up from his meal to see what was wrong with their friend. He didn't see anything that looked wrong though; Hobbie was sitting across the table, holding his mug of caf with both hands, his eyes shut as he breathed in the steam from his hot drink.

"What do you mean? He looks okay to me." Wedge shrugged and focused on his food again. There had been a shipment of fresh vegetables, fruits and some actual meat in the last supply run and he was determined to enjoy it before it ran out and they were relegated to pre-packaged rations again.

"No, there is something wrong with him. I saw him smile. He must be sick, right?" Wes sounded anxious and Wedge couldn't tell if it was real anxiety or just put-on for some sort of joke.

"Wes, shut up and eat." He looked at Hobbie again anyway though, noticing that Klivian hadn't moved and was still sitting there with the mug in front of his face. Maybe it was a little out of the ordinary. Wedge frowned, "Hobbie, are you awake?"

"Hmmm," was his only reply.

"I'm telling you, there is something wrong with him. We should take him to the med-bay just in case." Wes looked down the table at Luke, "I'm not imagining this, am I?"

"No, I saw it too. Very strange." Luke had the hint of a smile on his face and he shook his head slightly at Wes's concern. "We can take him to the med-bay if you really think it's necessary."

Wedge stared at Luke suspiciously, not sure if he was in on something with Janson. "Even if Hobbie did smile, is that really cause for a med exam?"

"Absolutely, we can't have pilots who've cracked in the squadron. Who knows what might happen?"

Wes huffed, "You're just humoring me, I can tell. We've all cracked or we wouldn't be here at all." He sat up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting slightly.

The sound of a mug hitting the tabletop, with a bit of force behind it, stopped them all and made them look to Hobbie again. "Enough, can't a guy enjoy his caf in the morning? The first time we get fresh sweet cream in over a year and all I want is to savor the moment, but no… you lot have to make an Imperial case out of it."


	15. Hose

He hadn't noticed the noise until after the battle was finished and they were on their way back to base, a short hyper jump of two hours. Sitting in the cockpit of his X-Wing, with the thrum of the engines and little else to distract him, the slight whishing noise was hard to ignore though. Something sounded off in the engine, and Tycho wasn't sure what it was.

His R2 unit completed a diagnostic of the systems it could control and found no malfunctions, but the noise persisted. In fact, the noise got worse, getting louder and becoming more of a rattle. It made him nervous. Something must have been jarred loose when he had that near miss; the repercussion of a close detonation maybe jolting the inner workings of the mechanical parts. He frowned and asked the R2 to run another diagnostic, and to speculate on what might be causing the sound.

They ran through the list of fuel lines, electrical wiring, control panel connections, and everything else that they could both think of, but the tests were inconclusive. Whatever made the noise must be working enough that it wasn't noticed, but loose enough to drive him slowly crazy with that gradually increasing noise. Tycho took a deep breath, wishing he could rub the back of his head to relieve some of the tension he was developing. His flight helmet prevented him from that action, and though he considered taking it off, it would be more hassle to put it back on if the noise developed into something more serious.

More serious? He laughed at himself, he sounded like Hobbie; assuming the worst over something that might not even be a problem. Maybe it was just a piece of shrapnel caught in the nose cone of the X-Wing, something that caught in the paneling and was just moving because of the velocity at which he traveled. It could be something as simple as that. However, his mind went to another scenario; maybe it was a piece of shrapnel and it was working its way free. It could fly back at the cockpit, hitting with enough force to penetrate. If it went through the top of his cockpit it could hit him or cause more shrapnel which could hit him; he could be shredded as he sat there and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

Tycho sat up straighter, checking his instruments and the countdown to reversion. An hour until he reached base with the other Rogues. He wasn't prone to worry, though he did like to be thorough and prepared for any possible outcome. For some reason he couldn't shake this pessimistic mood though, and he blamed it entirely on Hobbie and the comment he had made before the mission. "Just for once, I'd like to be the one who doesn't have any problems during battle. Can someone else take over, please?" Apparently Tycho's X-Wing agreed and decided to do just that.

He glared at the instrument panel, which still showed that everything was normal, and tried to ignore the sound of the rattling which was still getting louder. Leaning back he sighed and closed his eyes, trying to distract himself by thinking of music to fill his head. It was not a perfect solution, but it did help until it was finally time to revert to normal space and make the flight in to the base.

He set his X-Wing down in the hanger, in formation and near to Wedge. Thankfully as the ship stopped moving the noise also stopped and there was a moment of force-blessed silence. Tycho stayed in his cockpit a little longer than usual, just to enjoy the quiet, but finally roused himself when he noticed Wedge standing outside. His commanding officer, and friend, was staring at the front of his ship and shaking his head.

Wedge looked up at him as he descended from the cockpit. "Do you know how lucky you are?" He pointed at the pitting that scored the underside of the nose cone, "You have battle damage, and if that loose hose had rubbed against those two exposed wires you would have been pulled from hyperspace and probably would have become a nice big flash of light."

Tycho looked closely at what Wedge was pointing out, "I guess I didn't get all of Hobbie's luck after all."


	16. Whimsical

Luke stopped short in the doorway to the squadron's briefing room, his mouth popping open as he gazed around the newly decorated space. He didn't know what to say, much less what to think.

"Do you like it?" Wes Janson appeared at his side, grinning like a fool. "We thought the ice cave needed something to cheer it up a bit."

Luke stepped further into the room, taking a deep breath as he started cataloging all of the changes. Hobbie, Zev and Kit were standing near the front of the room, all looking sheepish. They had specks of paint on their boots, and those colors corresponded directly with the newly painted walls. What had once been white and blue sheets of ice was now a field of grass with whimsical wild flowers dotting the background. Someone had attempted to make hills in the landscape, though it looked like a half-hearted effort, and a big orange sun was placed squarely on the wall nearest the lectern.

It was obvious that they had used the few colors that were available for marking the hanger and repair work, and it was obvious that they didn't have a lot of experience painting, but Luke couldn't be too mad. At least they hadn't tried to paint their droids, or their Snow Speeders. He shook his head again, looking back at Wes, who still seemed hopeful about his response.

Wes seemed to wilt a little as he failed to respond, and the others froze in place as though expecting a reprimand. Luke took it all in again, "Yeah, I think I do like it, but you can't be finished if you don't have any trees. Why don't you grab a couple more of the Rogues and we'll finish it together." He smiled at Wes and slapped his shoulder. Might as well join them on the harmless stuff, and save the kitchen duty for another time.


	17. Sisters

Her sister was a Rogue long before Inyri ever joined the squadron, and maybe that was one of the reasons she didn't like them very much at first. Inyri Forge didn't want to be like her sister, who followed the rules and was the good girl for their parents. Her sister who was always accepting of how things were and using her talent and persistence to show people they were wrong about her, and people from Kessel.

Lujayne was the one who could win over friends through kindness, willingness to adapt, and her loyalty to the people in her life. She used her skills and talents to prove that no matter where someone came from they could be valuable to a cause. She didn't demand respect, she earned it. For Inyri that was a constant frustration; her impatience leading her to make the demand for that respect from the start, and not allowing others a chance to know her if it wasn't granted on her terms.

Inyri thought that if she could take life on her own terms it would make her independent, but all she learned was that the people who seemed to treat her with respect may not have actually felt any of it for her, while others who questioned her rash decisions and sought to protect her may have actually cared more for her in the end. On Coruscant she was given a gift, thought it didn't feel like such a great thing at the time, because she was able to see the immediate consequences of her actions, or inactions, and the relationships she thought were safe were exposed for what they really were.

Her experiences during the liberation of the planet opened her eyes to how people really treat those they respect, and what it was like to be able to count on people, even strangers, when working for a common goal. It was confusing, sometimes painful, and it made her see that she had misjudged her sister. A sister that she could never truly know, except through the friends that Lujayne had made in Rogue Squadron. Helping them gave her new insight into the people that Lujayne had valued, and she had a new desire to be that sort of person.

She would always be her own person, but being with Rogue Squadron made her feel like she could be better too, and one day maybe she would be the kind of person that her sister would have been proud to call friend.


	18. Forgetful

It wasn't that they were forgetful. The people they lost and the places they had to flee, and the battles which were defeats or chaotic retreats were never really forgotten. It was just that they had learned early on in the Rebellion that if they dwelt on any of that too long it became a hopeless cause. So most had learned to compartmentalize those negatives, and to remember the good, to joke about some of the bad, and keep moving on with hope for the future.

The losses became part of the reason for their fight. They went into battle for the memories of those friends who were no longer fighting beside them; honoring their sacrifice so that it might not be in vain. It wasn't always an easy thing to do though, and many of the Rogues had to learn a personal lesson to finally be able to get past their losses. Everyone had at least one loss to talk about, and they shared their pain. It wasn't a competition to see who had suffered more, but a chance to bond and mourn in a way to become stronger together.

If it seemed that they moved on quickly from each loss, or were too cavalier about the danger they were placed in day after day, it was not because they were forgetful or vainglorious. It was easy for others to judge them on their off-duty behavior; thinking that the Rogues were too young to understand what was at stake in their fight. Those beings would be incorrect. Every day was lived to its fullest, every friendship hard and fast, every moment a memory to be opened up again later in darker times, and every sacrifice willingly made.

Being young men and women they had many coping mechanisms; the drinking, fighting, gambling and even the sexual escapades were part of that. Being introspective could get a pilot killed if it happened at the wrong moment, and denial of mortality only worked to a certain extent if one became careless. There were so many things that were done to move on from the ugliness that surrounded them, but they never forgot their friends, their family, their pasts, their motivation for joining the rebellion, or all of the reasons they fought and hurt and died.


	19. Superficial

Erisi pasted a smile on her face and joined her squadron-mates as they left the hanger. She knew that they would be separating briefly to change and clean-up after their flight exercises, but then they'd gather again to relax and talk in one of the lounges. It was a pattern that made things easier for her. She could have a few moments to herself after Rhysati left their room, using the notion that the others had about her. They often teased her about needing more time in front of a mirror, so she used that as an excuse to beg more time to get ready.

They were correct that she was concerned about her appearance, but perhaps not in the way they meant it. She was concerned about being able to project the image of her that they expected; rich girl from a bacta cartel, with talent sure, but more superficial than themselves. They didn't know the half of it. They were all superficial in their own way; projecting the image of themselves that they felt was most acceptable, using their skill for pride and bragging, and hiding their secret fears and insecurities.

She was superficial too, her carefully constructed image for the other Rogues was always on just the surface, letting her hide her calculations and inner thoughts. It allowed her to smile and laugh, and flirt if necessary, while observing every interaction that happened in her presence. It was something that had allowed her to be a spy in their midst for months without anyone suspecting a thing. True, the suspicion that was being cast on Captain Celchu by outsiders made them a little more resistant to the idea that any of them might be an agent, but her own passing was the larger part of her ability to project the image she wanted them to see.

In many ways she was truly one of them. She fought side-by-side with them, putting her life on the line just as much as they were. She spent her free-time with them and shared a lot of her true self with them, stories about home and the past. Erisi was in the middle of them, as one of them, and they accepted her as such. They didn't have a reason to believe that she was holding back when all they saw of her was what they expected to see, the surface. All she had to do was remember to hold back, to separate herself from the real admiration and respect she had for them, and always remain the shadow of herself until it was time to go home.


	20. Wary

Wedge peeked around the door to his office, chiding himself almost immediately when he didn't see anything out of place. The squadron had been in good spirits, which led to a prank war between several of its members. Wes and Hobbie having rejoined the Rogues, after the separation during the campaign against Zsinj, had made him happy, except for the inevitable pranks. No one had targeted him yet, but he was going to be wary of Wes and his antics until he was sure of it. Sooner or later there was always an attempt to pull something on Wedge, and it was usually by Wes as the others had more sense.

He scouted the perimeter of the office, and still not finding anything he breathed a sigh of relief and sat at his desk, putting it out of his mind for the moment. There was plenty of data-work to keep him busy for the afternoon, and he was soon engrossed in his schedules and mission reports. Hours passed before he looked up again, feeling the need to give his eyes a break from the data streams and perhaps the chance to get a cup of caf from the nearest station.

The hall was quiet, but he was still cautious as he moved around the base to get the caf, and to walk out some of the kinks his muscles had developed after sitting for so long. He waved at Corran and Ooryl when he went by one of the pilot lounges, and acknowledged a few salutes as he passed various crew people in busier halls. Eventually he felt he had to return and finish his work for the day and he made his way back to his office.

He passed Nawara Ven, as his XO was entering his own office, and cautiously approached his doorway again, alert for signs of trouble. He didn't even make it to his door before Nawara was stalking into the hallway again, sputtering and brushing at himself. He was covered head to foot in bright red glitter. Wedge stopped short, staring for a moment, "Nice color?"

His exec's lekku twitched once before Nawara turned around and stalked down the hall. Wedge waited until he was out of sight before laughing, and then entering his own office again he carefully checked for any traps.


	21. Valuable

Hobbie woke with an aching head and the feeling that something horrible had happened to him. They had been celebrating the victory at Endor long into the night, and when they ran out of the supplies of alcohol that had been on their command ships they had started drinking the local Ewok equivalent of a homebrew. It had been a long time since they had good reason to celebrate so they made the best of it.

He didn't remember most of the celebration. There was some dancing and a lot of bragging as the pilots had recounted their personal experiences from the battle. The other strong images he remembered he was hoping were parts of dreams or nightmares. He shuddered as he finished dressing, slapping down the tabs on his coveralls so he could make his way to the mess for morning meal.

Wedge and Tycho were already there when he arrived and though they seemed happy, they also appeared to have the same hangover. They grinned at him when he slid into a seat across the table.

"Trying to recover?"

"I hope. We had a good time last night, didn't we? I think I had a dream that Princess Leia kissed each of us." Hobbie played with his food a little before spooning some of the grains.

Tycho laughed, "That wasn't a dream. She kissed us all to thank us for our success. There was a lot of kissing last night, and she wasn't the only one to kiss you. Don't you remember getting any other action last night?"

Hobbie stopped mid-bite and swallowed hard. "That wasn't a nightmare?"

"Sorry Hobbs, old friend, but that happened too. Someone dared Wes to kiss all of the virgins." Wedge laughed at Hobbie's look of outrage.

"I am not a virgin!" Hobbie blushed as several other people in the room turned to look at him, "He knows that too."

"Yes, we all know that, but Wes decided that since he couldn't catch Luke that you were the next best choice. You should consider this to be a very valuable lesson." Wedge nodded sagely at him.

"Lesson, what lesson would that be? Avoid Wes whenever possible?"

Tycho shook his head and handed something across the table. "No, the lesson is that whenever something embarrassing happens to you, you will always have friends there to capture the moment on holo."


	22. Orange

Tycho used to hate the color orange, but over time he got used to wearing it almost constantly. It is a color that cries out to be noticed. Many of the Rebels wore a specific color to mark their occupation in the ranks, and pilots tended to have orange as their default. Some pilots, those who flew something other than X-Wings, sometimes chose a different color, something to mark themselves as a separate group, but mostly it was still orange.

It made things easy in some ways because when he went into the hanger he could find the pilots quickly. However, so many of the pilots in that color had the same basic build so it was difficult to figure out if you were seeing the pilots that were supposed to be there or not, since you couldn't identify the individual as easily. Sometimes he thought that those similarities, and the uniform colors, made them a separate species from other Rebels who were crewing the capital ships, or those who were in supply, or in intelligence.

Orange was also a marked difference from Imperial service, where everything seemed to be black, grey or white. The pilots in Imperial service wore helmets that covered their entire head, so you never saw their faces, and there never was a need for their commanders to look at them as being more than disposable. It must have been easier to order someone to their death if you never had to look them in the eye.

They were certainly never allowed to alter their uniforms or helmets in the way that Rebel pilots seemed to get away with doing. The orange might have been the basis for the flight uniform, but he had seen dozens of different symbols and markings put onto the sides of helmets. Occasionally someone, like Janson, got away with altering a uniform to show purple stars or red flaming comets, though it was usually a uniform that was taken out of service because of damage. Tycho thought that Wes sometimes caused the damage himself just to have an excuse to turn heads in the mess or pilot's lounge later. He certainly got enough attention when he did those things, and even Tycho had to smile when the mood was lightened from those antics.

It felt odd; wearing orange instead of black. There were times when it was overwhelming that so much had changed in his life; he missed his home but he was glad to be fighting the Empire instead of fighting for it now. He was in the fellowship of those who were idealistic, stubborn in the face of defeats, and even if they didn't speak the philosophy of Alderaan, they seemed to be living it in so many ways. The flight suit was such a minor thing to focus on, and yet it was central to his new identity as a Rebel pilot, and though he used to hate the color he was coming to love it instead.


	23. Steady

Steady. His hands when he is guiding his X-Wing through the midst of battle.

Firm. His fingers on the trigger as he fires bursts of his lasers at the enemy.

Gradual. The way his heartrate increases as the battle begins and he, and his fellow Rogues, get into the thick of it all.

Fixed. His eyes as he tracks the progress of his wingmate, and friend, as they depend upon each other to fight side by side, at least figuratively, and to protect one another.

Dependable. The way his friends always know that he is with them and would back them up whenever they needed.

Faithful. Since he defected he has been devoted to the Rebellion. Dedicated through every struggle and hardship, no matter what came his way, even if it might be death.

Balance. Finding a way to survive the daily dangers and stay sane. It wasn't always so easy to do, but he has found a way; they all did, until they couldn't.

Lover. Being on the run, and facing danger so often, meant that long term relationships were not always a possibility. That didn't stop him from trying to find something good while he could though, and his partners didn't seem to mind.

He was steadfast and true. His unchanging nature was a support for his friends, and they counted on him for the role he fit into within their group. He was a dependable anchor that they could always look to when in need, and his steadiness was something for him to cling to as well.


	24. Ruin

"You know, she could break you in two if she wanted." Wes gestured with his bottle of lomin ale, indicating Plourr.

"Yep, she really could and probably would too. I have no doubts about that. Why do you think I've kept it to myself so long?" Hobbie sipped his drink and shrugged. "It was just a passing fancy anyway. You know how she likes to shoot me down every time she speaks to me."

"Masochist, are you?"

"Are you joking? What do you call our willingness to strap ourselves into small fighters only to get shot at as often as we do? How many times have we been shot at while on planets in the last five years? Is that normal?" Hobbie leaned back in his chair and moved his hand over the table as if clearing the air.

"Good point." Wes grinned at him, "I still think you're crazy though. I know that the women in the Rebellion tend to be smart, capable and strong, but most wouldn't beat you up as foreplay."

Hobbie smirked, "One of the many reasons I gave up that fantasy. I don't need to lose any more limbs. She would ruin me, so I've moved on to better targets and just enjoy watching as she beats up on others."

Wes laughed, "That sounds like a better plan. She certainly provides the entertainment when she comes out to drink with us, or anywhere really, and since she does all of the brawling I don't have to explain any bruises to Wedge when we get back."

Hobbie raised his bottle and Wes clinked his own against it. "Here's to not getting into trouble with women or commanding officers."


	25. Uttermost

Sometimes dealing with a squadron of pilots was like dealing with a group of children. Talented, egotistical and violent children. Sometimes he wished he could discipline them like children, but that was generally frowned upon in the New Republic military. It made Wedge look back at the early days of the Rebellion a little more fondly.

They always had a loose military structure for command, but it was never as strict as a formal military would have been. Some of the people who defected had issues with that at first, being used to structure and rules where the Rebellion let them flounder a bit in finding their path. Sometimes those people kept their discipline and found a way to adapt to the changes around them; people like Tycho and Hobbie fit in with ease with those who lacked some of their discipline. Others took things a bit too far, ignoring the few regulations that the Rebel command had insisted upon, and they were usually cut loose if they managed to survive engagements with Imps and pirates, or were not missed if they did not.

The changes they were making, going from being a group of Rebels, with loose structure and command, to a more formal military was difficult at times. One, because he was unused to insisting on decorum with people he fought side-by-side with and considered to be friends. Two, because the old punishments tended to be the tedious or annoying jobs that needed to be done around a ship or base, and now those jobs were filled by people who actually wanted to do them. And three, because sometimes when he had the urge to discipline someone in his unit he questioned himself continually over what was once forgotten being on a more permanent record than the unit's droid or his memory.

He missed the days when he was just one of them, able to join in whatever prank they were planning, card game that was starting, or wager on the love lives of the other personnel on base. Now it felt like there was a wall between him and some of the Rogues. Not Tycho, or Wes and Hobbie, so much as the newer pilots, but even when he was with his friends he sometimes wondered if his suggestions were given more weight than they ought to be getting. As he waited for them to all be seated and ready so he could start the briefing, Wedge thought that this was the time that made him feel most like an outsider to their antics.

They drove him to the uttermost edges of his sanity at times, but he didn't want to become separated from them because he always wanted to be their friend even if he was also their commanding officer. He just had to find a way to balance all of these changes without losing his own path.


	26. Hulking

The last thing he remembered, before the snow speeder plunged into the snow below, was the hulking shadow of an AT-AT. Then there was bone crushing cold and the sound of blasters. He thought that it was the end for him, so when he woke later on a medical transport he was very surprised. There were many others in the medical bay and every spot of free space seemed to be filled with loose gear or people from the hasty evacuation.

He grabbed one of the med techs as soon as he could though, "What happened, do you know if everyone got away?"

"Lay back down, pilot." The tech looked harried and she checked his medical forms quickly as she answered, "From what I've heard almost everyone got out but they are awaiting confirmation on a few. Some of the other Rogues got you to us just before the ship got clearance, but I can't tell you where they are now."

He glanced around the room, not seeing anyone he had flown with. Most of the other people sharing the med ward seemed to be there for frostbite and minor injuries. "Will I be able to rejoin them soon?"

"As soon as we arrive at the rendezvous location there will be transfers of personnel. I think that you can be moved to the ship your squadron will be assigned to, but I'm not sure which ship that will be yet. I can put in a request for information if you'd like." She glanced at him, and he nodded quickly. "Things are somewhat disorganized right now, but Command is working on it."

"Thanks." He relaxed back against the bed, as impatient as he felt he knew that the techs wouldn't be able to give him the peace of mind that would only come from seeing his friends. Hobbie could hear the tech moving on, checking with other patients and their quiet voices soothed him back to sleep.

When he woke again it felt as though a lot of time had passed, but he couldn't be sure when there wasn't a time display in sight. The lights were low, and he seemed to be the only one awake, but some of the people who had been there earlier were gone already. A noise at the door caught his attention and he looked up to see Wes Janson smirking down at him.

"I came to break you out of here, if you're up for it." He held out some clothes and glanced around the room. "Not much privacy, but you'd better change quickly."

Hobbie took the clothing with a shrug, "Like we aren't used to the lack of privacy everywhere in the fleet?" Wes steadied him as he wavered slightly, getting to his feet seemed like it should have been easier, and he changed out of the medical scrubs as Wed kept a lookout.

"Wedge found you listed for this ship, so we thought that we'd better come and get you. We're still trying to figure out what the next plan is going to be, but there is a problem. Luke hasn't shown up yet, and the Millennium Falcon hasn't reported in either. Wedge has temporary command of the Rogues until we hear something about Luke, and he wants us all together." Wes took Hobbie's elbow and steered him toward the hall, "They let me take a shuttle to get you, and we have to make another stop so we can pick up Tycho. I don't know if he's been told anything, or what else you've heard, so maybe it'd be best to let Wedge get you both up to speed at the same time."

Hobbie could see that Wes was worrying about Luke's absence, so he just nodded and let himself be lead toward the hanger. He didn't want to ask about the rest of the Rogues; who was still with them, who else they lost. "Tycho is okay?"

"Yeah, but he's still on the ship he was escorting, and hanger space is scare at the moment so the X-wings need to stay put for now. It might be a problem if we have to scramble to defend the fleet, but that was the decision from Command." He waved to a deck officer to get their attention and they started walking toward the shuttle, "I didn't send a message to Tycho so he doesn't know we're on our way. I'm hoping we get to wake him too."

"I doubt he'll be in a compromising situation, so don't get your hopes up." Hobbie shook his head, "And no pranks either, I'm not up for that."

"Spoilsport." Wes laughed, "No pranks, I guess. Come on, I'll get clearance, and you get on board so you can sit down before you fall."


	27. Party

"Do you remember when a Rogue Squadron party meant a bunch of pilots sitting on old crates, drinking whatever could be scrounged up and eating the leftover ration bars?" Wedge nudged Wes with his elbow, "I almost miss those parties."

Wes gave him a look of disbelief. "Do you have a head injury that we don't know about?"

"No, I think I know what he means." Hobbie gestured to the people that were spread out around the large room, dancing, eating, chatting and all having a good time. "There were times when it was only us, and we didn't have much more than each other but it was still good."

Tycho was nodding, "All of this is great too, and having more people to share in our victories is wonderful, but it doesn't really feel like they are our parties anymore. Too many people here for political reasons, people we don't even know. When it was just us we didn't have to worry about watching our backs when we were supposed to be having a good time."

"Exactly. Now when there's a party I feel like hiding in the back corner, playing a game of sabaac with close friends, and ignoring what everyone else seems to be doing." Wedge shrugged and tilted his empty mug around on its edge. "I could do that almost any time there was a free afternoon. I don't even know who organized this party."

He looked up, feeling that his three friends were staring at him. "What?"

Tycho cleared his throat, "I thought that you organized this."

Hobbie and Wes glanced at each other, shrugged and then nodded, "We did too."

They all looked at each other for a moment, and then looked over where people were still dancing. Wes was the first to say what was going through all of their minds. "Does that mean we don't have to stay? I know a quiet spot in the lower hanger that has a table and some old crates for chairs."

Tycho grinned, "Winter sent me a care package with some snack foods; I could run by my quarters and get it."

"I have two bottles of whiskey tucked away in my footlocker." Hobbie ducked Wes's half-hearted attempt to smack his shoulder.

"Alright, Tycho you go first, then Hobbie will follow. Wes you'll slip out next and grab some glasses on your way. I'll make the rounds one more time to distract everyone and meet you all in the hanger in twenty minutes." Wedge stood slowly, trying to look nonchalant as his friends started to scatter.

Wes stopped for a moment, waiting for his turn to make his escape, "Maybe you should grab Luke while he's still sane. Those political types have been following him around since he got here." He gestured to the harried-looking Jedi, turning it into a wave when Luke saw it, and laughed before heading for the door.


	28. Functional

It felt like there was something missing from Rogue Squadron. It was functional, as always, but some of the spark was gone. Tycho had been with the Rogues for a very long time. He had gone from distrusted defector to trusted friend, then mistrusted escapee, back to valued pilot and friend again. Now he was acting as Rogue leader, while Wedge was leading the Wraiths, and there was just something missing. He couldn't remember the squad ever being so quiet.

The quiet wasn't really a bad thing because it meant that he didn't get called in the middle of the night to go bail someone out after a brawl, but it made him wonder. Part of it was probably the relationships. At least half of the Rogues were dating each other or were in long-term committed relationships with others. Gavin and Asyr, and Nawara and Rhysati were couples and so they spent their down-time with each other more than the others. Corran was married and was with Mirax as often as she was around, which was a lot since their marriage was still relatively new. Winter hadn't visited him recently, but that relationship still gave him pause when considering how he wanted to spend his free time.

The surprising thing, for him, was that the rest of the Rogues were also fairly quiet when pursuing their off-duty activities. Wedge had made things a little easier on both of them by splitting up Wes and Hobbie. Hobbie was always one of the quiet ones, but without Wes to drag him into a silly scheme or prank he was even more so. It worried Tycho a little, not being able to read his friend very well anymore, and he wasn't entirely sure what Hobbie was doing in his off hours as they hadn't talked about anything other than missions for weeks. He was starting to feel that he wasn't being a good friend, and that their relationship had been reduced to their military roles.

Inyri was also staying out of trouble, though she was keeping up with her interests in obscure games and gambling with the officers on the Mon Remonda. She seemed a bit apathetic toward some of the other Rogues, but she was engaged during missions, so Tycho was trying not to think about it too much. Ooryl was still as steady and reliable as he always had been, so there was no cause for concern there. In fact, he had become one of the examples that the newer Rogues seemed to follow, which was much appreciated.

There was camaraderie between the newer four pilots, and the more experienced Rogues, but they weren't going to cantinas or getting into fights, or even playing many games (other than Inyri), so things were very, very quiet. As much as he enjoyed leading the squadron, he was actually getting bored. Tycho was even starting to miss Wes and the chance for getting pranked, and he was looking forward to a time when they would work with the Wraiths just to have something more lively happen.

He missed Wedge the most; that had been a friendship he had counted on through all of the troubles of the past years and Wedge had been someone he could confide in even when the others were distant. Tycho wished he had that connection to Hobbie, but it needed to be redeveloped after serving apart for so long, and when they were alone together they tended to talk missions or fall into an easy silence instead of chatting.

It was different and he wanted to make an effort just to change the way things were settling in with the squad, or the quiet boredom of his free time was going to drive him to start pranking people just to see what would happen. Rogue Squadron had to be more than just functional, it had to be a kind of family for them to be their best, and he was going to make sure it felt that way again.


	29. Marble

It was a big drafty room, but even though it wasn't the most comfortable space to spend time on base it was usually one of the busiest. The lounge was in an out-of-the-way spot too, which allowed the noise to go unnoticed. Like many lounges it had a bar and many tables set up for people to sit and talk, or play card games. There were viewports looking out over the landscape and comfortable couches for people to recline upon. However, the biggest draw was a set of holo-gaming tables and a full listing of some of the favorite games dating back to the Old Republic. They were the classic casino-quality tables, clean tech and the playing surface was set down into a marble base. Huff Darklighter had one, and Gavin had always wanted to play it as a child, but was never allowed to do so for fear that it would be damaged by an overeager child.

Now that he was given a chance to play with such an exciting piece of tech, Gavin had claimed the table on many evenings, always challenging others to play one of the remote flyer games. Pitting A-Wings against B-Wings wasn't so much fun, but in the depths of the programming there were old airships and even a few water-bound vessels. He could set up almost any environment and a variety of options would be given for battle conditions. It was almost better than the X-Wing Sims.

A few of the other pilots scoffed at him when he offered the challenge of playing, but some were good about trying it out and bought him drinks when he beat them in the game. Corran ruffled his hair and told him he was like a little kid, which was almost annoying but Gavin accepted that it was probably more true than not. Janson counter-offered with a first-person shooter game that was also loaded into the console and they switched between the games one evening until he could hardly see straight. Asyr kissed his cheek and told him that the games she'd like to play with him were inappropriate in the lounge, which got a laugh from everyone who was in hearing distance, and made him blush furiously for the rest of the night when they kept bringing it up again.

He learned new things about his fellow Rogues too; as they played they revealed parts of themselves. Inyri cheated with glee, not bothering to pretend she felt any guilt when she was caught. Gavin suspected that she was cheating more often than she was caught at it though. Klivian tended to get very focused, and when he concentrated he started humming something that sounded suspiciously like the theme music to an action holo Gavin had seen as a kid. Wedge and Tycho had both refused to play, but Gavin had caught them playing the game against each other one night when he had returned to the lounge to retrieve a forgotten jacket. They seemed to be embarrassed about being caught but he swore that he would never tell.

Uncle Huff had once told him that you could find out a lot about a person by the way they played, and Gavin was finding that it was true. He enjoyed the games, but he was also finding that he enjoyed learning new things about his fellow pilots. They had more complex inner lives than they had let him see before, and they didn't seem to realize that they were exposing those lives to him during the game. He was already planning to ask about taking the game with them if they were reassigned.


	30. Black-and-White

He didn't think that he would be spending so much time trying to find his Rogue Leader when the Wraiths finally arrived on the Mon Remonda, but for some reason Tycho wasn't in the assigned areas he usually would have been within, and no one could remember seeing him after mid-morning. Wedge was seriously considering giving a droid the task of finding his friend, when he decided that he might as well wait for noon meal and hope that Tycho would show up to eat.

He was going to get a mug of caf from the kitchen staff, something to take to the Wraith's temporary briefing room, but stopped just inside the door. When you stop looking for something, he mused, that was when you find it. Tycho was seated at one of the prep counters, a mug of caf next to his hand, and a plate full of cookies beside it. He was slumped a little, but looked completely relaxed as he munched on a cookie while being watched over by one of the cooks slicing veggies.

"Are you going to eat that whole plate?" Wedge continued into the kitchen, heading straight to the pot of caf. "I was just looking for you."

Tycho opened one eye to look at Wedge, but didn't reply until after Wedge pulled another stool over to sit nearby. "Something important?"

"Not really, but I wanted to check how things were going, and to let you know all of the Wraiths are getting settled in. I think Wes went to find Hobbie." Wedge shrugged, "It seemed like I should track you down too."

"Hmm." Tycho took another cookie and passed one to Wedge. "One of the cooks is from Alderaan. I guess she remembered that I mentioned my family celebrating midsummer solstice because she baked these black-and-white cookies for me. My grandmother used to bake them every year for the family get-together over the holiday."

Wedge was quiet for a few moments, not wanting to say anything so obvious that it had already been said years before. Most of the Alderaanians he knew, like Tycho, didn't seem to talk about their loss with others very often. Tycho seemed to sense his hesitation though and shrugged. "It's okay, Wedge, I just came here for the cookies."

"Right. Well, it was nice of her to make them for you." He nibbled on the edge of the cookie, enjoying the soft sweetness of it.

"Yeah, it's nice that people still do those things just to be friendly. Sometimes I forget how easy it is to ignore what everyone else is going through." Tycho shrugged again, standing and picking up the plate. "Maybe I should share these with the squad."

"Yes, because Wes and Hobbie with sugar is a good idea?" Wedge smiled, grabbing his caf and following.

"Hey, I only have to deal with Hobbie and he isn't so bad. You get to handle Wes and all of his antics, for which I am grateful every day."


	31. Useful

"I heard you talking to yourself again." Wes dropped heavily into the seat next to Hobbie, "I think that Tycho hasn't been giving you enough to do if you are resorting to conversations with yourself. Things getting boring here, I could help with that you know."

Hobbie sighed and pressed a hand over his eyes. "I was not talking to myself."

"Really, then who were you talking to? I've always wondered what you were up to when we were waiting for a mission to begin and couldn't break com silence. Even your R2s were never willing to share those details. C'mon, spill."

"It isn't important, just something to pass the time." Hobbie shifted slightly away from his friend, tempted to change seats. They were supposed to be planning mission details with Wedge, Tycho and Nawara, but he was early and Wes had followed him from the lounge. Usually when Wedge walked into a room where Hobbie and Wes had been alone together he got a look of panic, as though expecting that they were about to do something stupid. Whatever prank Wes was currently planning, and he knew there had to be something in the works, he didn't want to be implicated as a participant.

"Important enough that you talk to yourself about it?" Wes moved away abruptly, standing and walking around to the other side of the room. "That isn't usually a good sign for sanity."

Hobbie sighed, putting his head down on the conference table for a moment. "I know you can be more annoying, but in the interest of avoiding that, will you drop it if I tell you want I was doing?"

Wes stopped his pacing and turned to face the table, "Maybe, it depends on what it is."

"I suppose that is as good and it's going to get with you, hmm?" He glanced toward the closed doorway, "I was talking to my R2. He keeps notes for me sometimes when I'm bored; you know how long we have to wait sometimes, always at the ready, and music either makes me tired or gets annoying after it's been on loop several times. So I've been dictating my memoirs." Hobbie shrugged, "Writing letters, noting ideas for mission elements, and anything that comes to mind that I might want to remember later. Useful stuff mostly."

"That last message you sent to me, before we come to Mon Remonda, that was something you recorded when you were in your X-Wing, wasn't it?" Wes sat again, across the table from his friend this time. "It sounded a bit odd. I forgot that I was going to ask you about it."

"Yes, I was recording correspondence before we reverted. Long jump on that one. I don't know why it would have sounded odd though."

"Well, maybe not so odd, but it sounded more confessional than you usually are, and it made me wonder if you were getting out often enough. The new Rogues not as friendly as the old ones? You should meet Phanan, he didn't come with us on this mission, but I have the feeling that you'd like him." Wes looked up, hearing the hiss of the door as it began to open. "Remind me to get you into some trouble later. If you are getting that introspective it must be time for me to intervene."

Wedge got that fleeting look of panic as he entered and saw them there together, and he glanced above the door just in case, before taking a deep breath and proceeding to the head of the table. "Should I worry?"

Wes shook his head, "No, nothing to worry about. Just trying to be," he looked at Hobbie for a moment, thinking of the word his friend had used to describe his habit of talking to his R2, "useful to Hobbie for a few moments."


	32. Deserted

The mess appeared deserted, which was perfect as it suited his mood. It was early enough that most were still abed, but he had trouble sleeping and there was nothing to do except lay awake in bed or get up early and try to start the day. He had tried going back to sleep, but the thoughts that had been circling in his head since the night before were too persistent. They weren't new thoughts, but they had coalesced last night into a single idea.

Ton had tried to explain his thinking to Face, but he suspected that it hadn't really sunk in that well, and when his friend had left with the rest of his alcohol he had the feeling that Face was at a loss for what else to say. He didn't want pity, or even understanding, just acceptance of the truth he had come to realize about himself. It sounded morose, but that didn't mean it wasn't so. He had slept for a few hours after that, trying to get himself rested for the mission, but eventually he woke again and sleep was impossible to recapture.

Finding acceptance for what his life was, and releasing any wistfulness over the past, was something that he finally just had to do. It wasn't good to dwell on it or try to make it appear better; there wasn't anything that was going to make it better. He had his place, he had friends, and that was all there would be for him. It didn't have to be depressing, it just was, and if he could accept that then his friends would just have to accept it as well. In some ways he actually felt better about his life. He had a clarity that made things seem so simplistic. He had heard the physical therapists talk about finding one's center, a place that was true to one's self, and now he understood what they meant.

Ton glanced around the empty mess again, and then made his way into the galley to grab something for morning meal. The caf needed to be started and he went through the steps to get it brewing, letting the motions of that task keep his mind occupied for a few moments. He felt ready for this mission, even if he was still a bit tired. Face might question his readiness though, and he wanted to be able to reassure his wing-mate that everything was fine.

He was still getting his breakfast ready, waiting for that first cup of caf, when Janson joined him in the galley. The XO gave him a half-smile and a nod, but appeared too tired for conversation so early in the morning. They waited in silence for the caf to finish brewing, and then Ton poured them each a mug. Re-entering the mess, they sat at different tables, and Ton gathered his thoughts to himself again as other Wraiths slowly drifted into the room, feeling as though he were not quite as deserted as before.


	33. Kick

No one was talking much, and Wes understood perfectly. The Wraiths were moving around as if dazed, though they were also gathering around Donos to try to provide some sort of moral support. The Rogues were a little more removed from what had happened, but as witnesses who had been on stand-by to get involved they were still trying to figure out what could have been done to save the situation. Tycho and Wedge were both quiet, and Wedge looked more exhausted than Wes could remember seeing him. And Lara was gone.

He was confused about how he felt, and though he didn't want to over-analyze it he kept thinking about it. Wes slumped back into the couch Hobbie had chosen and tried to figure out what to say to his long-time friend. "I understand why he did it, but I'm glad that he didn't succeed."

"Wanted the chance for yourself?" Hobbie picked at the front of his shirt, as though uncomfortable with himself.

"No. It's different for the Wraiths because we knew her. Kest, I even danced with her at one of our little morale boosting gatherings. We trusted her. I can't count the number of times she could have killed any one of us, even Wedge, with hardly any effort, but she never tried anything against us. I think I might even believe that she never did anything to compromise us, but now? I can guess where she would go when there are so few havens out there for her."

Hobbie stopped pulling at his shirt and sat up to look at Wes directly. "Are you serious? The others are gathering around Donos because he was the last survivor from Talon, but the two of us . . . we trained them, Wes. We knew every single one of those pilots that were killed because of her actions for Trigit. Remember how eager they were when we had our first briefing? I do. I remember all of it, and I don't care how nice Lara or Gara, or whatever name she had, was to the Wraiths. Right now I just feel like I've taken a kick to the gut."

He leaned back again, watching Wes's face go blank, "I think you feel that way too, but you are too confused to acknowledge it yet."

"Maybe, but I also know that I've flown with a lot of people who started out as enemies, and that hasn't stopped me from being their friend when they became an ally. You, Tycho, Tabanne, and many others. I think Lara could have been added to that list, but now it will never happen." He shrugged, "I need more time to sort that out because there are too many crossed lines right now. I'm glad she got away because we've had too many deaths with our squads, recently. I'm glad that Tycho didn't have to shoot Myn, and I'm glad that Face is alright, and I'm glad that Tyria didn't have to shoot yet another pilot from Wedge's command. I think even Myn is better off for not having killed her. I think he was falling in love with her, as screwed up as that might be, and I think that if he had killed her it would have been worse for him."

"It's pretty bad for him anyway." Hobbie gestured across the lounge, "There is still plenty of trouble to go around for what happened. You might be right though, and we'll have to see this differently because I didn't know her and all I can remember right now are the Talons."

Wes sighed, slapping his knee and sitting upright, "I think I need a drink. Want me to bring one back for you?"


	34. Sound

The lounge on Mon Remonda was a decently sized room, though oddly shaped to Inyri's way of thinking as it had no real corners. She sat back in her "egg" shaped chair and let everything else flow around her; the room was good for that. The oddly shaped chairs often made people overlook who was using them too, giving her a little privacy to just sit, and think and be alone for a few moments, even though she wasn't truly alone. Their design was also functional as it allowed her to hear what was being said in other parts of the room, but the sound from within was captured so her own conversations were more private. It didn't matter so much when she was sitting by herself though.

There were pilots from the Blues, the Wraiths and the Rogues all present, but most were gathered around tables or the bar and were talking, drinking, or gambling and she wasn't in the mood for any of those things. She was watching them, and could hear some of the conversations too, but had nothing to contribute to them. Rhysati broke away from a table, taking one of the Wraiths with her; Sarkin she thought, though Inyri wasn't completely sure, and headed in her direction with drinks, and for a moment she was tempted to get up and walk away.

She still had the urge to avoid some of her squadron on occasion, though she wasn't always sure why that was. This time she stayed in place, watching as they settled on the nearest couch. Inyri looked at them both, quirking an eyebrow to show her curiosity for the move, and Rhysati shifted uncomfortably.

"This is probably too personal, and you can tell me to go fly into a sun if you want, but we were just talking about how," she glanced to Sarkin for a second, "it seems like all of the male pilots expect the female pilots to pair off with them eventually, and over time it almost always happens."

"You aren't going to try to set me up with anyone, are you?" Inyri sat up straight and glowered, but she still accepted the bottle of ale that was passed to her.

"No, not that. We were just curious about how you managed to avoid it. I mean, I'm with Nawara and happy about it, and Tyria is in a relationship with Tainer, that tall guy over by the bar." Rhysati pointed and Tyria waved to Tainer and the others who looked their way.

"Alright, I can think of several reasons. One, you remember who my ex was, right? I like being single after that; it's nice to be my own person for a change. Two, you know who my choices are, right? Antilles is the commander and off-limits even if we had anything in common, which we don't. Celchu, same reasons, plus he is in a relationship. I could say the same for Nawara, Corran, and Gavin since they are all in relationships and I don't mess with that stuff. I don't think Ooryl would be interested in me, even if I were interested in him, and Nu isn't really my type. Tal'dira is a bit too aggressive for my tastes, especially after my last relationship, but I wouldn't flatter myself by thinking he had any interest in me either. Kether, not a chance; our pasts are so wildly different I can't imagine having anything but a pilot to pilot kind of friendship with him. Who does that leave, Klivian? Ha, not if we were the last two people in the universe." She crossed her arms over her chest, huffing slightly as though she had run a race.

Rhysati smirked at her, "You don't have to limit yourself to the Rogues, but I can see the course you've plotted."

Tyria was shaking her head, "At least you've got good reasons, but really do we need reasons for not getting involved with someone when we just don't want to be in a relationship? I mean, I love Kell, but when I first joined the Wraiths I was worried about the male-to-female ratio because I didn't want to be the girl being chased after by a bunch of lonely men. It gets old fast."

"Exactly," Inyri found herself nodding in agreement, "I'd rather that they just accept me as a fellow pilot, a friend maybe, and a member of the same squadron who they can rely on during missions." She clinked her bottle with Tyria's and they smiled at each other. "I'm fine on my own, and really it's better this way for now."


	35. Vast

It was a small lounge, more like a private room really, and it was one of the few places on base that had a great sound system. It was deep within the building, without any natural light or windows to show a view of Coruscant's sky, but that was part of the allure. Hobbie was sitting, alone, on one of the deep-cushioned couches with his feet up on a low table, listening to music.

There was a deep thrumming bass, and the lyrics were slow and a bit sad, but that suited him perfectly for the moment and he just leaned back and let it flow over him. He didn't expect that anyone else would be using the room so the music was louder than he usually would have played it, but since the room was mostly soundproofed it didn't matter. Wes had gone off-base for the evening, and Hobbie suspected that most of the other Rogues who were off-duty were also enjoying their free time away.

Leaning into the cushions, more comfortable than most of the furniture in his quarters, he was tempted to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time he had spent the night in this room, if he did fall asleep, but he wanted to enjoy the music more than he needed rest. It had been a long mission and though the others were all celebrating by going out and embracing their lives in various ways, Hobbie was just tired. The music made him feel a bit more at peace with his emotions and allowed him to express them, semi-privately, without having to talk.

This was a habit he had picked up from Dllr. After being given an opinion on every musical group they ever heard in cantinas, he started finding his own taste for different music to be growing. When they lost Dllr and Herian, he had started collecting pieces that reminded him of friends, of battles they had fought, and some that suited his moods at various times. Listening to the music, often sitting alone in the dark, made him feel better, or more connected to the vast universe around himself. He could lose himself in other ways too; drinking too much or one-night stands had done that for him in the past, but often led to terrible mornings or consequences he didn't want to think about too much.

He stroked the faux-fur on the cushion next to him and took a deep breath, letting out some of the tension he had worked up again. There was a slight noise from behind and he opened his eyes as the door activated and a sliver of light crossed the room as it shut again. Hobbie wasn't sure if someone had just looked into the room, or if someone had actually entered, until Wedge crouched next to the couch to look at him in the dim light.

"Pause music." He didn't bother sitting up; if Wedge was crouching it was definitely not a formal military response he was looking for. "Something I can do for you, Wedge?"

"Actually, I was wondering if there was something I could do for you. Tycho and I were headed out to join the others for the evening and I just wanted to ask again if you wanted to come with us." He shrugged, "You don't have to be alone all the time, you know."

Hobbie was absolutely still, studying Wedge's face for a moment, not sure why his friend would look so worried this time. "I'm not always alone. It's just that being surrounded by other people, loud obnoxious people especially, is exhausting some days. I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll feel better if I just stay here."

He could see the acceptance on his friend's face, but the worry was still there too, "Alright, but if you change your mind later call and I'll let you know where we end up." Wedge used the end of the couch to brace himself as he stood, he didn't know what else to say, but it felt wrong to leave Hobbie alone in this room that was now silent, almost desolate. "If you need anything, you'll let us know, won't you?"

Hobbie nodded, not looking at Wedge any longer. "Sure. Go, have fun. Get Tycho drunk if you can. Wes will tell me all about it tomorrow, if he remembers anything." He gave a half wave as Wedge left the room, and resettled himself into the soft cushions. He waited a few moments, until the door was sealed and the quiet enfolded him, "Resume music please." The song started at the exact moment it had been paused and he once again closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let himself drift away with the bass line.


	36. Vanish

They had just gotten into the thick of the battle, and it was a target-rich environment just as Wedge had told them it would be. Hobbie was scrambling to keep up with his wing-mate, but Wes was paying less attention to him and more to the TIE he was chasing. He rolls to port and Hobbie follows, tucking in behind him to guard, while getting off a quick shot at the TIE's wingmate.

They had to keep the TIEs away from their capital ships as long as possible, so those ships could make the run up to light-speed and jump from the system. It was a retreat, but a strategic one and they had actually accomplished what they had set out to do this time. The Rogues were still in the middle of it all though, finishing their job and trying to survive a little longer until they could make their own jumps. Wes had looped them around toward the flank, killing the TIE he had been chasing and then finding another pair for them to shoot, taking the left as Hobbie aimed for the right; exactly as they had done so many times in sims.

Something behind him explodes close enough to weaken his rear shield, and he checks his instruments to see where the other Rogues were, "Trying to toast me, Rogue Eight?"

"Sorry, Six, I forgot that it was Five's job to do that." Avan, and Feylis his wingmate, break off behind Hobbie, twirling starboard and back toward the thick of the battle, and Hobbie refrains from saying anything as Wes laughs over the com. He just shoots the next two TIEs they come against, and Wes shuts up as he refocuses. They take the next wing-pair by surprise, they are so quick, and even Wedge takes a moment to congratulate them on the kills.

This is what Hobbie lives for; flying with the Rogues, the chase, the clarity he feels when they are so quick and skilled. He loves following Wes when his friend is focused and intent on their mission, and he loves that they know each other so well that he can anticipate every turn, every shot. It feels like this is the moment he should live within, but it never lasts, and while he's checking his screens just for a second Wes vanishes in front of him.

His heart stops until he can see that Wes's X-Wing is intact, but powerless, and he slows his own craft so fast that blood rushes to his head. Hobbie takes a deep breath, trying to avoid passing out as his vision greys, and marks the location for the evac shuttle. He knows that Wes is probably having his own moment of panic that will be wiped out by anger and a stream of cussing that would make his R2 unit blush, if it could.

"Six, form up with us. Better not draw attention to Five so the shuttle can grab him." Wedge's voice cuts through his jumbled thoughts and he obeys instantly, touching the yoke just to wave his s-foils at Wes before moving away.

"Yes, sir, on my way." He finds Wedge and Ibtisam quickly and moves into a Vic formation with Wedge taking point. The rest of the battle passes in a blur as he follows Rogues One and Two, keeping his mind focused on each target until they are clear enough to break free. There is no sign of Wes, or Avan who had gone EV toward the end of the fight, so he knows the shuttle has gotten them both and is probably ahead of the Rogues, ready to make its jump first. He finally relaxes, waiting for the order to make the jump, and watches his screens in case there are last attempts to prolong the battle from any of the straggling TIEs.

"Rogues, report by number."

Hobbie listens with only part of his attention, reporting his readiness in turn, and then it's time to jump, and he imagines how it looks as they all vanish from sight. This is the part that he sometimes loves, and sometimes hates. This time it is the latter because he won't be back soon enough to see how Wes is doing, and talk about what happened and how they missed the ship with the ion canon. Instead he has to sit in his cockpit, quietly waiting with his own thoughts since the jump isn't long enough to have brought anything worthwhile for entertainment, just long enough to make him tense and impatient because there is nothing scarier than losing your wingmate in a battle.


	37. Support

"She's crazy about me."

Wes laughed out loud, slapping the shoulder of his friend. "No, Hobbie, she's just crazy." He wheezed slightly as he continued to laugh, and their companions both smiled and shook their heads.

"Is this where we say that it takes one to know one?" Wedge touched Hobbie's elbow briefly and his friend relaxed slightly.

"I can't argue with that, I suppose, especially if it means that you agree with me." Wes nodded sagely, "She was crazy, and the one thing you don't need, Hobbie, is a crazy woman following you around."

"I don't need any woman following me around." He glared at Tycho after the man snorted, trying to hide a laugh, "I don't need this abuse either."

"Don't be mad Hobbie, the crazy ones like me too." Wes tried to sooth the ruffled feathers, not liking that his teasing was being taken more serious than it usually was. Maybe he had missed something earlier, and he told himself to back off for the rest of the night. His friends seemed to be getting the same message, Wedge as frowning and Tycho looked slightly guilty.

"Sorry, Hobbie, I didn't mean anything." Tycho tried to get their friend's attention, but Hobbie was looking at the crowd of Rogues across the cantina, his expression closed off again.

"It's fine, I think I just need to go outside for some air." Hobbie stood abruptly, his chair scraping the floor loudly, and made his way toward the front of the cantina.

Wes looked from Wedge to Tycho, who both looked surprised, "I'd better follow him, I don't know what he might be thinking but it probably isn't good." He took a deep drink from his mug of ale and followed Hobbie's path, just a bit more slowly. He found Hobbie just outside, leaning against the front of the building. Wes approached cautiously, not trying to be hide in the crowd, and stood directly in front of his friend, waiting until Hobbie looked up at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to piss you off."

Hobbie took a deep breath, shaking his head, "I'm not pissed off. It's just," he stopped himself, looking down the street for a moment, "It's just stupid. It doesn't matter. Just go back inside, forget about it."

Wes didn't move, staring at his friend as though trying to see through him. Finally he reached out and touched Hobbie's arm, "I didn't say it to hurt you." That seemed to be closer to what had happened, and Hobbie's lips thinned as he clenched his jaw. He didn't shrug off the touch though, or move away. "I don't know what is going on with you today, but I didn't want to hurt you." They were getting into icky emotional stuff, which he wasn't really comfortable talking about, and Hobbie seemed to feel the same. "I know I'm not the best at this, but I can listen if you need support."

Hobbie shook his head then, "No." He looked at Wes's hand, still touching his arm, "It was just something stupid that Plourr said to me earlier. I'm used to that from her, all she ever does is insult me, but it would be nice if my friends could at least let me pretend that someone might be interested in me one day."

Wes sighed, "We wouldn't joke about it if we thought that it was true. Even I'm not that mean, am I?"

Hobbie shook his head again, "No, not usually. It just hit a little too close tonight." They were both quiet for several minutes, watching as people came and went from the cantina. "I'm not sure if I want to go back inside."

"You did overreact a bit, but you know Wedge and Tycho won't hold that against you, right? And if you're worried about how things will go now, it would only be more awkward later. Come on, we can go to the bar for a round and then back to the table. I'll tell Wedge about that time we walked in on Tycho when he was trying to teach Luke how to do that Alderaanian dance. It'll be okay." Wes reached out to touch his shoulder, but hesitated and turned it into a brief one-armed hug before turning and starting toward the door, and Hobbie followed.


	38. Invite

He couldn't sleep, which wasn't unusual on this planet. The cold kept some awake, unless they decided to double up for warmth, and command had packed people four or more to each room. Hoth was interesting that way. Tycho had arrived later than the squadron he had been assigned to, so he was bunking with pilots from Blue instead of the Rogues, and their schedules were different. That also led to some trouble sleeping. Neither was the reason for his trouble sleeping though.

People had been telling him for years that he was very skilled at concealing his emotions, which was a boon in a place like this where they might be called out for ridicule, but sometimes at night when he was trying to sleep all he could think about was how alone he felt. He had lost everyone he had ever cared about when he lost his homeworld; family, friend and fiancé. Circumstances after his defection made it difficult to make new friends. He knew some of the people he served with, but they hadn't been close before and he wasn't sure how to change that.

Tycho was accepted because of where he was from, his reason for defecting, and his skills. It wasn't enough to just be allowed to fight though, not when some still looked at him with suspicion and others treated him as though he might be some kind of agent. Some of the other Rogues didn't even use his name when speaking directly to him, if they were even willing to speak to him. They didn't seem to have that trouble with Hobbie, who he remembered from the Academy. Hobbie didn't wait for a planet to be destroyed before defecting though, and he brought a ship with him and other pilots when he did so, and that was something that Tycho was reminded of at least weekly still.

He climbed out of his bunk, throwing on as many layers as he could, and left his room. The Blue pilots were already on duty somewhere so he didn't disturb them this time. The squadron hadn't been using their X-Wings for much on Hoth, but a lot of the pilots had access to their assigned ship and often did mechanical checks. Tycho headed for his X-Wing; sometimes it felt like it was all he really had and it too was given to him by the Rebellion. It was sitting near the back wall of the ice hanger, half in shadows, and he clamored up a ladder to get inside.

It was tempting to close the canopy, but with the systems powered down he would get more fresh air by keeping it open. There was enough shadow to keep him out of sight though, and he finally was able to relax as he leaned back into the pilots couch, and ran his hands over the instrument panels. Soon he had fallen asleep, and the only dreams he had were of flying.

He woke with a start some time later, reaching out to grab at something but only hitting the inner sides of the X-Wing. He was still in shadow, but now someone was looming over him and he jerked away instinctively.

"Sorry, didn't meant to startle you." It was Hobbie, and he was standing on the ladder that Tycho had used to get into the fighter. "I just came to check out my X-Wing and noticed you were up here." He paused and glanced around the hanger before leaning closer, "Are you okay, Celchu?"

Tycho shook his head, still tired enough that Hobbie wasn't making a lot of sense. "I, um, couldn't sleep."

Hobbie nodded, "They put you in with Revaj and Morath, from the Blues, didn't they? You should come with me, we can grab your gear and move you in with the Rogues. There are only three of us in the room I was assigned, and they should have put you there to begin with; Luke was given his own room because of rank. He's been freezing but is too stubborn to move in with us, so you can have that spot."

"Isn't Antilles in your room? I don't think he'd want me there."

Hobbie stopped climbing down the ladder and looked around again, checking to see if anyone was close enough to hear, "Wedge doesn't have a problem with you. He's just . . . cautious about all of the newer pilots. He and Luke were the only two to survive from Red Squadron on the Trench Run and sometimes he seems to think that we're all going to die around him, again. He won't have a problem with you moving in; he might even start using your name. The one you have to watch out for is Janson, because he might decide to stick something odd in your bunk one night. Come on Tycho, a fellow Rogue is inviting you to stay with your squad, do you really want to argue?" He jumped down from the ladder, skipping the last two rungs.

Tycho got up, awkwardly due to stiff muscles, and swung himself over the side of the X-Wing, onto the ladder. "No, I really don't want to do that. I don't have much stuff to get, but would appreciate the help anyway." He shouldn't have been surprised that it was Klivian making the gesture of acceptance, and yet in some ways he was. "Thanks, Hobbie."

"No problem, someone did the same for me once."


	39. Kiss

"I think I was about twelve years old, and the girl was one of the prettiest in our school. She used to follow me home every day, living just a little further down the road. One afternoon I was walking home, looking at the fields and thinking about the ways that the harvest changed how everything looked, and suddenly she was tackling me and kissing me." Wes shrugged, "She said it was a dare, but I still don't believe that. There wasn't anyone else in sight. She just wanted me." He smirked, elbowing Wedge.

"First kiss, hmmm. I was thirteen and there was a cute girl who used to stop at my parents station with her father. He had his own ship and they traveled through a lot. Myra and I were really good friends, she was almost like a sister. She used to call me a horrible nickname, which I won't repeat because I don't need this reprobate to use it." He nudged Wes to get him back for the bony elbow to his side. "It didn't really mean anything, we were just curious and thought that we might as well try it with each other."

Tycho looked between the two of them, shaking his head. "I was thirteen for my first kiss as well. The schools near my home had several dances every year and my parents encouraged my siblings and me to attend. I was too young to have a date, but there was a girl that I liked and she agreed to dance with me several times. Near the end of the dance I brought her a glass of fruit juice and she kissed me, as a thank you. It was sweet."

Wes laughed, "Tycho, are you blushing?"

"No." He elbowed Wes's other side and grinned when his friend yelped.

Hobbie was the only one who hadn't shared a story, and he didn't look as though he wanted to share one either. He sat apart from them by a few feet, and had his arms crossed over his chest, ignoring them as they all turned to stare at him in anticipation. There were a few moments of silence, finally broken by Wes, "Come on Hobbie, you agreed when we started talking. If you don't spill, I won't give you any more of this lum."

Hobbie finally sighed, reaching for the bottle of lum, "It was horrible." He gave Wes a dirty look when his friend laughed, "It was horrible. I was eight and there was a group of three girls in my class who would chase boys around the play yard. I heard rumors about what they did, but I was too young to know what it really meant. All I knew was that I had to run if they chased me, and one day they did. I didn't run fast enough and they had me cornered against the building before I even knew what was happening. All three of them kissed me; wet, sloppy kisses. It was easily the most disgusting thing I had ever experienced, up to that point in my life anyway. I sure hope they learned how to kiss properly when they got older." He shuddered and took a drink.

Wes started laughing again, "That explains so much. I finally get it. I hope you've been kissed properly since then. It's my duty as your wingmate to make sure of that now, right Wedge?"

Wedge nodded solemnly, "Even if you have to do the kissing yourself." He laughed as they both gave him a dirty look.


	40. Call

There was always a lot of chatter at the sabaac table; news from families and friends not present, good natured ribbing and jokes, complaints about the quality of the food on the new assignment. Wes was teasing Tycho, for the Alderaanian was losing quite badly but remaining good natured about it, and Gavin was talking to Wedge about the possibility of leave and the call he had gotten from his father asking whether going home to visit family on Tatooine would be possible. Corran asked Gavin about the family he had met when they had been on the planet together, and for just a moment the other four pilots at the table shared a look that went mostly unnoticed.

For some of them home was a place they could never go back to visit, or live. Sometimes that meant it was thought of with longing and good memories, but also sadness at what was lost. As much as the survivors of Alderaan had lost there were refugee groups who were determined to recreate a home with each other, no matter where it might be. Tycho did not participate in such endeavors though. He had Winter, and his friends, and that was enough for now.

For some home was a place that had been destroyed because the people that had made it a home were gone. Corellia was a place that could be considered home, but it wasn't really where Wedge grew up. Gus Treta Station, with his parents, was his real home until they died and the station was damaged by that fire. The Corellian system was a large one though, and while he could fantasize about living on one of the planets or moons one day, it wouldn't happen with the current political groups in control of the government. One day there might be a place he could call home again, but he still had to find his sister, and there was so much work left to do before he could settle somewhere.

For some others home was a place they had left behind, not feeling like it was ever welcoming or very happy. It was what one ran from to become the person they felt they should become, whatever path that might require. Hobbie had no desire to see Ralltiir again, so he didn't go back even when he could. There was nothing back there to make him feel as though it were home. His home was flying, and with his friends in the Rogues, and it never mattered where they were as long as they were flying together.

For some home was a place to think of fondly, but never have quite enough time to visit. Calls home took the place of personal leave on the planet. Those ties were never quite severed, but each contact only proved how you no longer fit into your family or the place where you grew up. Wes talked to his family, very occasionally, and found that as he got older he was happier away from home because he could never have made a very good farmer. His horses would have been wild and his fields just a place to tie him to the ground. It may have been home but he didn't belong there; after all he had done for the Rebellion and the New Republic, Wes wasn't sure if he belonged anywhere except with his squad.

Wedge cleared his throat, and continued the game by laying down his bet. Corran and Gavin stopped talking long enough to watch the new action, before adding their own. "We'll have leave again soon, Gavin, you can tell your father that you'll be going home."


	41. Stroke

"Pilots are the worst passengers. Every time there is the slightest bit of trouble they want to rush in and offer to take over. What do they think I'm doing in the pilot's seat anyway, keeping it warm until a _real_ pilot shows up and I can go back to serve drinks?" The woman flung her hands up into the air, exasperated, and Wes jumped back to avoid being hit.

Hobbie laughed from his other side, "I know exactly what you mean. Every time we have a mission that requires one of us to pilot a landing craft, and the others to be passengers, there is always a point where all of the pilots in the back want to come forward to do what they think would be a better job. It drives our commander crazy because he was the only one that none of us dares to suggest that we could replace, so he has to pilot almost all of those shuttle missions now."

"It's all ego. I'd bet that some of you flyboys could fuel your fighters on pure ego if someone could design a converter." She gestured to the bartender to get another drink and Hobbie quickly did the same, and included Wes in his hand signal.

"Probably true as well, though when you get underneath some of that bravado it's a lot of show. Everyone needs a stroke of their ego occasionally." Hobbie accepted his new glass of lum, and passed the second to Wes, who was looking a bit bored.

"That's how they used to pay us in the Rebellion, since there wasn't any real currency." Wes frowned for a moment, looking into his glass. He wasn't sure why Hobbie was still talking to the woman, she had been offended by their offer to buy her a drink and wanted to argue ever since she sat next to them at the bar. He also wanted to go somewhere else, but didn't want to move on until he was sure of Hobbie's plans.

Hobbie was looking at Wes oddly, sure that something was going on but not sure what. He also wanted to get out of the conversation, and was trying to be agreeable so they wouldn't get yelled at again. There had been enough of that earlier in the day when Tycho had found the pile of stuffed lizard monkeys in his X-Wing. He tried to catch Wes's eye, "Is that your way of saying this should be our last round so that we don't go broke?"

The woman was looking at both of them with suspicion again, leaning away from the bar slightly. She paused as though she might say something, but suddenly shook her head and grabbed her drink, heading for a booth across the cantina.

"We must not have enough money for a woman like her." Wes shrugged, finished his drink and slapped the counter. "Come on, time to go somewhere fun. If we're going to be stuck on this planet, we might as well do more than just talk about ego-stroking."


	42. Spotted

He was going to give his friend some space. It didn't happen often, but every once in a while Tycho got into a melancholy mood and not being very demonstrative with his feelings at the best of times, Wedge usually gave him space to work it out on his own. Tycho knew that he had friends to talk to, if that was what he wanted, but there was never any pressure. So when he saw Tycho sitting, alone, facing the viewports instead of the room and the other pilots, Wedge figured it was one of those times and that he would just get a drink with Wes and Hobbie instead.

As he crossed the room he heard something odd though, something that turned him around because he wasn't entirely sure what it was. He just knew he had never heard Tycho Celchu make a noise like that before, and he had to find out what it was or go crazy trying to figure it out later.

Wedge came up behind the couch in time to hear Tycho laugh and then hiss with pain, "What exactly are you doing, or don't I want to know?" He could see in the reflection on the viewport that his friend was holding something, and the Alderaanian froze in place as soon as Wedge had spoken.

"Nothing. I'm not doing anything." Tycho hunched slightly, as though hiding something.

"For some reason, I really don't believe you. You know, as my XO you should really be a better liar. Wes could teach you." Wedge came around the side of the couch, trying to get a look at what his friend was trying to hide so carefully. "It can't be that bad; you know we've both seen it all after flying with this crew for so long."

Tycho straightened slightly, looking up at Wedge with an embarrassed smile, "One of the mechanics let me borrow her for a few hours." He lifted up a small fluffy creature, and Wedge wasn't sure it was alive until it blinked at him and Tycho hissed again. It had dug its claws into his hand as it tried to keep balanced. "It's a Spotted Sand Kit. I haven't even seen one since I was a kid, and didn't know there were any that survived Alderaan."

Wedge started to smile, and he would have laughed except that Tycho was starting to look ashamed, and who was he to judge if his friend found some comfort in a small, cute, mammal. So he charted a different course, "I never had a pet when I was a kid; too dangerous on a refueling station. I always wanted one, but it never could have happened." He shrugged and sat down next to Tycho. "You're going to need a medic if it scratches you too much."

"It's fine. Want to pet her?" He held the kit out and Wedge took it awkwardly, getting a complaint from the small animal and a laugh from Tycho. "She isn't that dangerous, you look like I just handed you a bomb."

He didn't hold the kit for a very long, but he does sear the image of Tycho smiling like this into his memory, sure that he would rarely see anything like it again and it was nice to think of his friends being happy even if for a few moments. "Here, you should take her back. I think I prefer the stuffed bantha Wes gave me, though you'd better not tell him that. I'd end up with a collection."

"Absolutely, don't tell Wes." Tycho brought the kit back up against his chest, letting it rest on top of his arm, and it started purring. It's such a perfect, mellow, moment that Wedge decided to forget that he had come to the lounge for a drink and a game. He relaxed back into the couch, watching Tycho pet the small kit, letting the silence stretch.


	43. Reduce

It was impossible to explain the things that happened on Hoth to anyone who hadn't been there. For those others it was easier to reduce the experience to cold hard facts about the climate and battle losses. However, it was more than just the cold that seeped into everything, or the close-quarters needed to keep both people and equipment insulated as much as possible, or the lack of any comforts like fresh fruit or rec rooms that bound the Hoth survivors together. They had all developed a closeness from that shared discomfort and danger that went beyond anything that grew during their time in other bases, on other planets.

Hobbie could remember how the base had always seemed so small, and yet they had so many people there and so much space in the hangers for their ships. It was really a small city, but it had felt so intimate when living there, as though they were all living on top of one another.

He could remember how Wes would kiss them all when they got back from patrols, so exuberant and full of life, and wanting to be everywhere at once. He could remember the entire squadron sitting in Luke's room, playing sabaac and talking late into the night. He remembered how Princess Leia (just call me Leia) would sometimes join them, and how he looked down in the middle of a game once to find that she had fallen asleep against him, and how scared he was that he would move and wake her up. He remembered how they teased Tycho until he finally worked up the courage to call her Leia instead of by her title, and how she had laughed and thanked him for finally remembering her name.

He could remember how young they all were, waiting for news from the other bases and Rebel cells, worried about their friends that were engaging in more active battles. Scared to get bad news, or no news at all, but excited every time the smallest thing went their way. He could remember conversations with Tycho about what would happen to them if they were caught; they had been told that defectors weren't even given a trial, just a blaster bolt to the head. The fears were never enough to turn them from their path though.

He remembered all of that, and he knew that the others did as well, because if someone mentioned Hoth Wes would get that look in his eyes and would grab the closest Rogue and enthusiastically kiss them. Tycho would blush and look away from them all, Wedge would get quiet and shake his head as if shaking away the memories, and Luke would shiver as though he still felt the cold. And Hobbie would look at his friends and think that even though they had been cold and miserable, it was one of the best times of his life.


	44. Draconian

He never expected to be back on an Imperial base, unless it was in cuffs and a cell leading up to his execution as a deserter. Hobbie was standing, alone, in the quarters he had been assigned, not really seeing the room. The Rogues were all given private rooms, probably so they couldn't speak freely with one another. He would have given anything to not be alone, but he wasn't sure if he would be allowed to go to someone else's room, or if the guards standing outside in the corridor would prevent it due to their draconian regulations.

Hobbie also wasn't sure who he would speak to, and he didn't want to add to the burdens that Wedge and Tycho were already feeling. He could see the strain on both of them. Tycho probably due to the fact that Winter once again thought that he was dead and he couldn't do anything to tell her he was alright, and finding out that Isard was still alive and hadn't been killed by his proton torpedo at Thyferra. Wedge because he had to hold everything together for the squadron and deal with Isard and the Imps, as well as knowing that the people he considered to be as close as family thought he was dead.

Hobbie didn't have that worry. There wasn't anyone in the universe that would be waiting for news about him, there wasn't anyone out there who loved him. All he had was the squadron, and he had just lost his wingmate, and then his best-friend, and the one time he wished he could share the grief with someone he felt like it wouldn't matter. There was a knot of pain that had formed in his chest and nothing seemed to make it go away. He felt invisible among the Rogues, he felt alone, and he felt as though he might cry.

Standing in the middle of his silent room, wearing an Imperial black flight suit, he was light-headed from all of the things that he felt and couldn't express, and he had to sit down before he fell. Hobbie had always known that he would lose more, if not his own life then his friends, but he didn't expect to feel so alone and that was the thing that crushed him the most. Without being able to share his grief at losing Wes, without being able to share the unreality of being here in this place and in these circumstances with Tycho, who probably felt something similar, he was adrift. He just wanted someone to see him, to tell him it would be alright in the end, and to be a friend because he suddenly felt as though he didn't have any left.

Reaching up to rub his eyes he found that his face was wet and he couldn't remember when the tears had spilled over, but once he finds that he has started crying, he can't stop. He slumps over on the couch, his face in his hands, and loses himself until there is a touch on his back which jolts him back to the present. Wedge is there, looking at him with such shocked concern that he almost asks what was wrong before remembering, and Tycho is on his other side, sitting on the couch next to him and rubbing his back slowly. Hobbie wants to stop crying, to ask why they were there, but he can't find enough air to speak. It doesn't matter though because Wedge is moving to sit next to him, trembling with his own repressed emotions, and Tycho is putting an arm around him, and he finally feels as though he isn't alone anymore.


	45. Ruthless

"You turned evil a lot faster than I thought you would." Wedge turned to Wes, gesturing toward the Wraiths that were running through exercises under his XO's supervision. "Is this really necessary?"

Wes didn't smile, which was unusual in itself, and simply nodded. "Absolutely, and if I turned evil it is entirely your fault for providing me with the example."

Wedge snorted, "You keep telling yourself that. How long is this going to go on? Don't they have Sims to do today?"

"Ah, the real reason you came down here. You wanted to vape some of your little Wraiths in the Sim. Feeling old again? I could still trade with Hobbie and he could make you feel young just by being his cheery self, and then I could drive Tycho mad so he won't object when you take over as Rogue Leader again." Wes did grin now, though it was a bit more ruthless than Wedge was comfortable with.

"No, I'm sure Hobbie and I would manage with the Wraiths, but I don't think Tycho would ever speak to me again." Wedge slapped Wes on the shoulder and pointed to the Wraiths again, watching Phanan use a rude gesture toward Face when he thought they weren't looking. Face grinned and returned the gesture. "I think your troops are becoming unruly. What did they do to deserve this anyway?"

"You do not want to know. Not officially, and I won't say unofficially. Just let me have my fun and it will never happen again." There was wickedness in Wes, and Wedge decided to just let it go and not ask.

"Alright, but there will be Sims later. Let me know when you've finished torturing our pilots and I'll come back down."


	46. Horses

Some of the Rogues hated riding anything that was living. It was rare that they rode in something that wasn't their own X-Wings or a capital ship taking them to a mission destination. Occasionally they were on a planet and had to use ground transport for a mission, but that was almost always mechanical too. The rare occasions that there was an animal involved though, those were moments that Wes Janson actually relished.

Taanab was a lush, green world with rolling fields perfect for their agricultural endeavors; a life that Janson never felt suited for, but one that shaped his childhood. In the more rural areas, where his home was located, many people rode animals instead of mechanical transports; it was cheaper and fitted the slower pace of life. His father had many such riding animals; equines being the favorite when Wes was young. He would ride one of the horses out to check on the fields or the herds of staga, but it was almost always an excuse to be able to ride and feel the wind in his face.

He learned to respect the animal, and to give it some free reign, or sometimes to ride with loose reins, when they were out in the open so they could really move quickly; his horse enjoying the joy of running as much as he did. That intelligence was the reason that so many other pilots didn't want a living creature as a mount though; they didn't want to fight for control, and Wes knew that control didn't have to be a struggle. When they had the chance to ride, he eagerly took it and brought anyone who was willing along with him.


	47. Structure

There was a large pile of cushions in the lounge; nothing matched and the hideous old cushions looked as though some giant monster had eaten all of the worn out furniture and then vomited it up in the middle of the floor. Wedge had to stop and look around to see if it was a joke being put together, before he felt safe enough to cross to the bar. He almost made it there before he heard the first giggle.

It was definitely a giggle, not a laugh, and he turned to look suspiciously at the pile of cushions. From the other side he could see that there were other bits of fabric stuck between, blankets or pillows perhaps, and a small opening on the one side. The ugly heap wasn't large enough to hold more than one or two people, so Wedge shook his head and continued to the bar.

There were others in the lounge, but everyone seemed to act as though there wasn't a hideous blobby structure in the middle of the room. Tycho and Gavin were sitting to one side of the bar, having a conversation that almost seemed animated, so Wedge joined them but he couldn't help but look at the cushions every few minutes and they noticed. Tycho smirked, "Ignore that, Wedge."

"I'm not sure if I can. Is it Wes? Is he drunk?" Wedge shifted to look at the cushions again. "This seems weird even for him."

"He said that it was therapy and he had us help him build it."

Wedge gave Tycho a look that clearly showed doubt in his friend's sanity. "You helped him make that thing?"

"He asked us to, and it seemed like a good cause, so we did. We got extra blankets and pillows for him too."

Gavin was nodding in agreement. "It's an intervention. We all felt it was a good idea."

"Intervention? Who does Wes have under there?" Wedge was curious, though he had a good guess as to who Wes was likely to harass enough for an intervention.

Tycho gave him a look, which from anyone else would be accompanied by the rolling of eyes, "Do you need to ask? Hobbie, of course. As soon as you brought the Wraiths here, Wes took one look at Hobbie and started planning this. We, the Rogues that is, thought that it was a good idea. I don't think Hobbie has smiled in over a month." He shrugged and sipped his drink.

"And what is Wes doing to Hobbie under there?"

"Wedge, you don't want to know. I don't want to know, and for that matter, I don't think anyone else wants to know. If it doesn't work, well, at least we know that Wes won't let it go."

Wedge sat down on his bar stool with a small thump, not sure how to argue against that statement, "Alright, you're Rogue Leader, and Hobbie is a Rogue. Just remember that he was the one who came up with that prank on Hoth that got you into so much trouble. If he holds this against you, you'd better watch out."

"If this has the chance to lighten Hobbie's mood, that is a risk I am willing to take." Tycho glanced at the strange cushion fort and smiled, "Anything for a friend, right?"


	48. Sophisticated

The idea of Wes Janson trying to act sophisticated was enough to make Hobbie laugh. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the way his friend acted, usually, but Wes didn't normally obsess over what women thought of him either. Since they heard about Princess Leia coming to visit with Luke, and the new squadron he was putting together, it was all Wes could think about though. He even asked Celchu for advice about customary greetings on Alderaan, and Wes avoided talking to Celchu whenever possible.

"Wes, calm down, she knows that we're just a bunch of fighter jocks. She isn't going to expect poetry or elaborate ceremony. She'll probably spend her time with Luke anyway, just being introduced to us briefly." Hobbie shrugged, "Just be yourself. You manage to charm everyone eventually."

"I don't want her to think that I'm some dumb dirt-trotter from a hick planet." He was fidgeting with the collar of his flight suit, and looking younger than ever in his anxiety.

Hobbie shook his head, "She likes Luke and he's just a farm boy from Tatooine, isn't he?"

That stopped Wes in place, "Well, yes, I guess so."

"Come on, you'll say 'hello' or 'pleased to meet you, Your Highness,' and she'll say 'hello' in return and move on to meet the next pilot in line. No worries, right? I can't believe I have to be the one to reassure you about talking to a woman."


	49. Short

"I am not short." His eyes were narrowed and he was frowning, which to anyone who knew Wes Janson, was a sign of danger. Unfortunately for them, the Commandos at the bar didn't seem very impressed though. He glanced at his wingmate and received a reluctant nod. Hobbie wasn't usually the one who started a fight, but he would follow his fellow Rogues into danger, no matter what kind it might be.

"Whatever you say, shorty." The man was quite a bit taller than Wes, it was true, but he was also young, probably inexperienced, and far too cocky to be let off the hook for the implied insult.

Wedge leaned back on his own bar stool, glancing at the Commandos from the other side of Wes and Hobbie, "You must not know who he is. Don't worry, I think he's going to teach you." He would never encourage his pilots to get into trouble, but he wasn't going to hold Wes back either. They had been on full rotation for too long and there was a lot of pent-up energy to blow-off. Even Wedge felt it, and his daily workouts weren't helping his own stress levels anymore.

"I don't care who he is." The Commando was really asking for it. Even Tycho was starting to smile, anticipating what was to come.

Wes tipped his drink, smirking, "Lieutenant Wes Janson, Rogue Squadron."

There was a slight hesitation, but the Commando still didn't budge in his position, and Hobbie took two steps back just to clear the way. The offensive young man did take note of that, tensing slightly as his friends shifted closer. "And?"

"And I'm not short." Wes was off his bar stool and swinging before the Commandos had time to gather together, and Hobbie was only a step behind. It degenerated pretty quickly from there, though the Rogues acquitted themselves fairly well. The bar was a bit messy when they finished, and though no one was actually unconscious it was a near thing in the case of the first Commando.

Wedge was smiling, feeling pretty good about things, even though he was developing a black eye. Tycho was sitting across from him at their new table, and he kept shaking out his left hand, having hit something harder than he should. Hobbie was dabbing at a split lip, and shaking his head at whatever Wes was saying to the other Commandos at the bar, and Wes himself was a bit rumpled but otherwise no worse for wear.

"Well, that was fun. We should do this again some time." Wes returned to their table, his arm around Hobbie's shoulders.

"It was fun, but Wes, he was right." Wedge looked up at his friend with fake sincerity, "You are short."


	50. Increase

If looks could kill, Wes might be in a lot of trouble. However, since it was only Hobbie that was glaring at him he wasn't too worried. He had seen his friend in worse moods, and had, truthfully, done worse things to him before and had always been forgiven - eventually. It might take some time, but since he would be spending most of his time with the Wraiths anyway, it wasn't like Hobbie could do much to him to pay him back for it.

He watched as the newest Wraith, Elassar Targon, approached Klivian again. The young Devaronian pilot said something, was glared at and shooed away by the others at the table. This time Hobbie didn't look at Wes, but Tycho gave him a dirty look instead. There was a low-key discussion going on and a game of sabaac. Tycho didn't usually play, as he did rather poorly, but when he did he was uptight about being able to concentrate on the game. Targon's interruption was probably badly timed.

Wes shrugged, and tried to pay closer attention to the Wraiths who were seated nearby, listening as Shalla recounted a weapon her father had allowed her to use as a child. He thought that he was screwed up from his beginnings in the Rebellion and how young he had been, but she was learning warfare tactics at a far younger age and seemed mostly sane. It was impressive, as was her ability to beat most of the squadron in hand-to-hand combat. One of the early lessons Wes had learned was to avoid upsetting the female Rebels who could kill him with one finger, and he always kept that lesson in his heart.

He didn't worry about upsetting his male friends quite as much, which was why Hobbie was glaring at him again, and now Wedge was giving him a look as well. He rolled his eyes and ignored them, but grabbed Targon before the younger pilot could go back to their table and bother them again.

"Sit, or else." He pointed at a spot between Kell and Face, "When I mentioned that Hobbie was the luckiest Rogue, I didn't mean for you to harass him constantly. If I've flown with him for years, trained other pilots with him, and even roomed with him, and the luck hasn't rubbed off on me, you annoying him isn't going to increase it in you."


	51. Wobble

The med center was one of the most boring places on base, but Wedge was stuck there until further notice, according to the med techs and the base's lone doctor. There wasn't enough bacta in supply to use for simple illnesses like the one he had contracted.

He hadn't felt sick, but when his balance went out and he could only wobble down the hall, clutching at the wall for balance, he knew he had to get checked out. Balance was extremely important when flying, and was one of the key factors in having a feel for the orientation of a fighter craft. Fortunately he had made it to the med center without Wes seeing him, or he would never have heard the end of it. He probably had been moving as though he were extremely drunk.

Now he was being treated, and the painkillers and antibiotics made him feel better, but he was bored out of his mind. The rest of the squadron was being lead through maneuvers with Luke, and would probably be busy until late afternoon. He sighed and turned onto his side to face the wall opposite the doorway. This base didn't offer much to look at; no windows and no murals or staff artwork to draw interest. Wedge closed his eyes and tried to escape into sleep, only to jolt awake again after a few minutes.

"Wedge, psst. Are you awake?" Wes did a poor job of whispering, and Wedge thought about pretending to sleep just to avoid the possibility of being annoyed, but decided finally that he was bored enough to answer. He rolled onto his back and looked up at his friend to hear was else Janson would say.

"I brought you something." Wes held up a datapad. "I thought that you might want something to do. I loaded a bunch of games and a couple holonovels that the squad recommended." He came closer to hand the pad over to Wedge.

"Thanks Wes, I've been really bored. This will help. Shouldn't you be heading for a briefing now though? I appreciate this, a lot, but I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

Wes waved a hand dismissively. "Hobbie is covering for me, and I'll cover for him later. I should go or Luke might catch on though." He waved again before ducking back out of the room.

The datapad was a great distraction and Wedge played several single-player games before starting one of the holonovels. He was given a tasteless lunch, and resumed reading before it was finished. It was almost dinner before he had another visitor.

Hobbie showed up, silently, and held up a pitcher in one hand and a small basket in the other. "Don't worry, I got permission from the med tech first, and you can have this if you want it. The mess staff let me take a few things for you. It isn't much, but I know what med center food is like."

"Hobbie, come in. You don't have to worry, I'm sure it's great, thank you. What exactly is it?" Wedge watched as Hobbie set both things on the tray next to the bed.

"Just some fruit juice and crisp breads, with a little fruit spread. My mother always had me eat this when I was sick. Easy on the stomach, but still tastes good." He shrugged, seeming to be embarrassed. "I shouldn't stay. Wes is covering for me, and force know what kind of excuses he has been telling Luke."

"Sure, I understand. Thanks, Hobbie. I mean it, I really appreciate the food." Hobbie gave him a rare smile, and left quickly. Wedge really did appreciate the food, but ate slowly as he continued reading. If he hadn't been feeling sick it would have been an enjoyable way to spend the evening.

Wedge was surprised that it took so long for anyone else to visit, but Tycho came soon before the med staff switched to night shift and the patients had lights-out. He carried a datapad like the one Wes brought earlier in one hand and the other was hidden behind his back.

"Luke asked me to give his to you." He handed the pad to Wedge, and it was glanced over quickly.

"Work? You know I think I prefer the visits I got from Wes and Hobbie. They brought me better gifts." Wedge smiled and set the pad aside. "I think I need to talk to Luke about doing his own reports too."

"I'd like to be there when you do that." Tycho laughed, and brought his other hand out from behind his back. "I brought something better too. I grabbed this from our room before coming here." He wiggled the stuffed bantha between them. "I thought that you might like to have this."

Wedge grinned, holding out a hand to take the toy. Wes had given it to him the month before, as a joke, but he was finding that it was a comfort to have something small and soft to pet. Of course he wasn't going to tell Wes that, but Tycho had shared a room with him long enough to notice. "Thanks. I sleep better when I have him."

"I know." Tycho glanced toward the door, hearing the techs shooing people away down the hall. "It sounds like it is closing time, but I'll stop by again tomorrow. Get better soon, okay, Luke doesn't know how to control us without you watching his back." He gave Wedge a casual salute and disappeared down the hall.

He was feeling better, maybe good enough to be released the next day, but until then, Wedge snuggled up with the stuffed toy, holding the datapad from Wes in his other hand and read until he fell asleep.


	52. Aspiring

Hobbie looked around the room, counting the aspiring young pilots, and wondered how he and Wes were going to screw them up. All of their trainees were present and they were supposed to be starting a navigation lesson, but Wes was late. He wasn't surprised; Wes was late at least once each week and often on the first day with a new batch of trainees.

All of the students were staring at him, waiting for him to start the class and he just stared back, not sure of what to say. Hobbie heaved a big sigh and was about to start, finally, when the door burst open and Wes ran down the middle aisle of the classroom.

"I'm here! No need to panic!" He reached the podium, slapped Hobbie's shoulder, "Now we can start."

Hobbie glared at him for a second, "You missed roll, so I'm marking you tardy."


	53. Calendar

Moving from base to base, often under enemy fire or as an emergency evacuation means that the Rebel personnel often lost track of things like the date, the day or the cycle in general. There were too many other things going on they need to pay attention to instead.

The many planets that they came from had their own holidays. The Empire had its holidays, and the people who still tried to adhere to the Old Republic traditions celebrated those old holidays, even when they were sometimes illegal. There were special days of remembrance for the Rebellion as well, like the anniversary of Alderaan's destruction and a few of their defeats that had cost so many of lives. In addition, there were personal anniversaries, life days and celebrations for accomplishments.

After their last move there had been a period of settling into their new space, finding new patterns for moving supplies, trading, patrols and mission runs. It was after all of that quieted that Luke and Wedge had a chance to catch their breaths and start scheduling again. The calendar showed that during the lead up to the move, the move itself and the settling in period they had missed the anniversary of the squad's formation, two life days and that they had neglected to celebrate the last round of promotions within the Rogues, including Wedge's promotion to Captain.

They looked at each other, over Luke's make-shift desk, and said together, "WE should have a party."

Luke grinned, "That proves it was has to be a good idea."

Wedge nodded, "Maybe we can have a smaller party though, just the pilots, techs, and some friends? The last party we had got out of hand and the whole base was involved. You didn't have to deal with clean-up and complaint memos, but I did. No thank you."

"Good point. Smaller would be better this time. It might be a good bonding thing for all of us too. We haven't had much time for that lately." Luke grabbed a datapad, and turned in so they both could read it. "Let's start planning."


	54. Eager

Wes may have seemed confident in his ability to train their first squadron, but Hobbie saw how nervous he was when they were going over the Sim results. He reviewed the actions of each eager trainee and diagrammed lesson plans on how they performed. They were getting close to live flights and he worried about letting them loose.

Hobbie was more practical. He knew that they couldn't protect these pilots for long, so they had to be tough and just do the best they could. He favored many assignments and Sims too, not minding the review process.

Corsair did have promise and they were already noting who might be tagged to lead the flight groups and the entire squadron. After four weeks of classroom work and daily Sims, using classic battles and missions, they were getting a good idea of what was needed next also.

"I think we should give them an astronav problem and take them on a live flight, we can do a jump to test the best answers." Hobbie pushed his datapad across the desk, but Wes ignored it.

Janson was leaning back in his chair against the wall, and he suddenly grinned and stretched his arms over his head, "I think we should get them all drunk." He sat forward, letting the chair legs hit the floor again. "Or, even better, let's give them the assignment and then get them drunk. Whichever trainees has the best solution after being drunk and hung-over gets command of the squadron."

Hobbie looked at him, with one eyebrow cocked, "Seriously?"

"Sure, it'll be fun." Wes took the datapad from the desk, "We can give the assignment and then go out that same evening."

"You want to test a course set by a hung-over trainee? I think I understand why we're stuck here instead of rejoining the Rogues."

Wes shook his head, laughing, "We have to trust them sometime, but you know that we'll review all of their solutions first to pick the best ones. Not to worry, right? And you know the real reason that we're here instead of with the Rogues is that Wedge and Tycho can't compete with me on looks when the holo crews start covering the news of their missions."

Hobbie smirked, know the last part was a joke. "I'm letting Wedge know your theory."

"Tattletale."

"You keep telling yourself that, Wes." Hobbie rolled his eyes, "How about you give them the assignment and I'll take them out drinking?"

"Nope, you're stuck with me, partners in crime and training young pilots. You make sure that I don't corrupt them and I make sure that you don't give them all depression. Deal?"

"Alright, as long as you buy the first round." They shook hands on it and Hobbie grabbed the datapad back from Wes. "Let's give them some trick questions."

"Ooo, you want to be evil? I like that. Trick questions, absolutely." Wes grinned again, and let his chair fall back to lean again the wall once more.


	55. Wish

There were times when he thought that their wishing game was a little like torture; being deprived of so many comforts led to wishing that they had some of them and sharing those wishes led to sharing stories about what those things were actually like or why they were missed. The lack of creature comforts was not a tipping point for any of them, though they did look forward to the day where they had steady pay of some sort, leave to do something other than missions and routine duties, and a stable place to call home.

"I wish I were home in the middle of spring, when everything smells of little growing things and there are soft baby animals to care for on the farm." Wes leaned back, his head cushioned by his hands.

"I always forget that you and Luke both grew up on farms; very different farms, but still, farm boys." Across their room, Hobbie rolled onto his side, looking at Wes for a few minutes. "What was it like, growing up on a farm?"

Wes laughed, "You can probably imagine it, if you tried. Lots of chores. I bet that was the same for Luke too, though you're right about the differences. I had to make sure the animals were all fed and given fresh water before dawn, their stalls cleaned out, their grooming done. We had some milking animals and I got to deal with that too, though my sister was assigned the egg gathering chores." He sat up on his bunk. "It wasn't so bad, but I knew I didn't really belong and I definitely didn't want to be a farmer when I grew up."

"I don't know, I can picture you as a farmer some days. Some pretty young woman as your wife, a bunch of kids, telling stories over dinner." Hobbie shrugged.

"It wouldn't have been the worst fate, but I belong here. Even if we are half starved, the environmental controls are on the brink of collapse, yet again, and we get to die of boredom waiting for the next batch of orders. And it is your turn."

Hobbie nodded, sliding a hand under his pillow and closing his eyes for a moment, "I wish I had a big slice of sweet cake, just like my mother baked for my last life day at home." He opened his eyes again, and sighed. "I know we get things like ryshcate because there are so many Corellians around and that is one of their traditional celebration cakes, but it doesn't seem like real cake to me. Too much alcohol in it. My mother made sweet cakes that were light, airy really, and had a nutty frosting. I'd love something like that instead of all of the heavy rations we have; dried, vacuum-sealed, bland or too spicy. Blech."

"That would be nice. I haven't had anything that tastes like home for ages it seems. We need to find one of the smugglers that brings in supplies and see if we can get a little side action going."

Hobbie snorted, "Because they are so reasonable with their prices and we are paid so very well? I think I'll wait for the next base and hope it has some kind of food market or decent cafes."

"Are you being optimistic? My heart might freeze if you are." Wes laughed as Hobbie gave him a dirty look. "My turn? I wish . . . "


	56. Move

It was a little earlier than Wes was usually awake, but he had been assigned to do an early morning escort of one of the Rebellion's freighters and so it was forced upon him. He knew one of the other Rogues would be coming along, but it had been late when the orders came and he hadn't asked who it would be. There wasn't going to be a lot of time for chatting, but it was nice to know the people you were flying with.

When he got to the mess hall he figured out who it was though. Tycho Celchu was the only one seated at the Rogue's usual table, facing away from the doorway and mess hall food lines, but recognizable because of his posture and coloring. Wes grabbed some food, unappetizing as it was, and hesitated. He knew that he should go and sit with Tycho, but whenever the two of them were alone he didn't know what to say. Truthfully, he tried to avoid being alone with the other man whenever possible. Not, as Hobbie said, because of Celchu's past as an Imp, but because he didn't like not knowing his squad-mates and every time he made an effort to get to know Tycho Celchu the man shut down quicker than a snapping flower.

Finally he got some caf and decided that he would go to the table anyway. He was a Rogue too after all. He set his tray down and sat across and one seat down, from Tycho, but the other man didn't even look up at him. "Good morning. Tired?"

"Hmmm." Tycho looked up at him briefly, but Wes didn't consider that to be an actual response. The Alderaanian seemed to have a similar opinion on the food, pushing it around the plate instead of getting it into his spoon.

"Not hungry either? I think the only reason I can force myself to eat this stuff is that I'll be starved if I don't. I have some extra ration bars if you want something to take with in your X-Wing though." He thought that was a decent offer, but Celchu just gave him a look of confused suspicion, and Wes found himself grabbing his tray as if to leave again. "I can move to another table if you want."

"Why would you do that?" The question was delivered flatly, and Wes tensed slightly.

He was tempted to blow it off as something meaningless, but a sudden tightness in his throat made him go forward. Wedge had been asking him to make an effort to get to know Tycho for weeks, and he had made those efforts, but he was really getting sick of always being rebuffed. "Because you don't seem to want me here, and contrary to popular opinion I don't like spending time with people who actively dislike me."

"Dislike you? Me dislike you?" Tycho said the last slowly as though not believing the words.

"Well, yes. I know you aren't the most social of Rogues, but most people can fake conversation at least, try to get to know their fellow pilots, answer basic questions about the weather and the bad food in the mess." Wes shrugged, "Force knows I've tried being nice and tried to get to know you, but I'd get more from my astromech droid. At least it doesn't ignore me as though I were somehow unworthy of its attention."

Tycho was looking at him with confusion again, and he shook his head slightly as though trying to understand. "I thought that you disliked me. Someone told me that you were the one most likely to prank people, and I thought that personal information should be kept private, just in case." He frowned, "I didn't really think that through. I just didn't think you were really interested in talking to me. Most of the time you seemed to avoid me because I was an Imperial pilot before."

"I may be more cautious than some, at first, when someone defects, but haven't you noticed my best-friend is an ex-Imp? Why would I hold that against you and no one else? And, yes, you will be pranked one day, but I don't do that to people who are going to take it as a personal slight. We don't need those kinds of misunderstandings in the squad." Wes let go of his tray, picking up his spoon again. "So, could we please get to know each other at least a little bit better? I like knowing the people I fly with, and being able to trust them."

"Alright, as long as we can start over from the beginning and forget that this" Tycho made a vague hand gesture, "misunderstanding ever happened."

"Deal." Wes held out his hand and Tycho shook it, "The offer for the ration bars remains though. This stuff is just too terrible and we'll both be starved before we get halfway through the escort duty."


	57. Itchy

Being in the Rebellion was not like being away at summer camp, even if his mother seemed to pretend that was where he was most of the time she sent him messages and care packages. There were drop off spots located around the galaxy for mail and personal items to be sent to people within the Rebellion, anonymous locations that the more mobile Rebels could get to and check occasionally. If something was dropped off with an identification number it would eventually be routed to that person, or sent back if the number was listed as inactive. Inactive meant dead, occasionally it had meant captured but that usually meant dead too.

One of the packages brought back from a run happened to be for him this time, and Wes found it on his bunk after he returned from the Sims they had been running. It wasn't a huge package, but big enough to make him hope that it contained some kind of food in a freshness seal, and maybe the gloves his mother had told him she was working on in the last message he had gotten. Hobbie was the only one there when he ripped open the tabs to get the whole case open, and his friend laughed at his enthusiasm.

Wes was a little excited, and he laughed also when he saw what was inside. The gloves, and a matching scarf made from an itchy woolen blend, which was then boiled until it softened and could absorb and reflect body heat for the wearer. It would have been the perfect thing on Hoth, as far as Wes was concerned, but he wasn't about to go back and try it out there. There was a package of dried fruit, a fresh-sealed package of cookies, and even a small jar of the tart fruit spread his grandmother made for the family every fall. Wrapped around everything, as though it were a protective sheet, was a small quilted throw and he recognized it as one of his aunt's favorite patterns.

"Well, I guess someone loves you." Hobbie came closer to see what Wes had gotten.

"Don't be jealous, you know I'll share the food." Wes slid a hand around the inside of the case, feeling for a flimsy or datapad; something that might have a letter, and found the flimsy on the very bottom. A letter from his family. He tucked it away again, intending to read it when he had more privacy. He didn't like being so open about his family. Part of that was because he missed them, and part of it was because most of his friends didn't have family and it felt wrong, as though he were rubbing salt into their wounds by being happy to hear from his parents.

He slid the scarf through his fingers, appreciating the dark blue color, "Have you ever had something like this? Softer than a newborn kit." He held it up, looking at Hobbie until the other man touched the scarf.

"Absolutely." Hobbie shook his head, "Come on, we've got to get back for the briefing or Wedge will wrap that around your head and use it as a gag."


	58. Absurd

Luke was in the middle of writing a report, with Wedge's help, when Commander Thelex burst into his office, without knocking or announcing himself.

"This is the last time, Skywalker. If you can't control your pilots I'll bring their behavior to the attention of someone with more authority." The man was so angry he was almost foaming at the mouth.

"I'm sorry, Commander, but I don't know what you are talking about." Luke exchanged a worried look with Wedge and stood up.

"Come with me and I'll show you." He turned and stalked out of the office, Wedge and Luke scrambling to follow. He didn't say another word until they had reached the hanger, one that had been assigned to Intrepid, the recently commissioned A-Wing squadron. He pointed to the closest A-Wing, so angry he couldn't form words at first.

Luke stared at the fighter, not sure what to say either. They were usually nice craft, but the three he could see from the doorway had all been painted an absurd shade of purple and had yellow stripes crossing from cockpit to fuselage. From the corner of his eye he saw Wedge cover his mouth, probably trying to prevent laughter from escaping, and he cleared his throat the draw the irate Commander's attention. "I'm guessing that your accusation has to do with the paint job?"

"Paint job! This is an atrocity, not a 'job', and your Rogues are responsible." He was still pointing at the ugly ships, and Luke's patience was running out fast.

"Do you have any proof of that, Commander?" Luke knew that it was likely true, and he could probably name the specific pilots involved, but if he didn't have to reprimand them or acknowledge this incident in their records, he wouldn't. And he was tired of people making accusations without anything to back them up.

"Well, no, but it doesn't take much to know who was involved." Thelex lowered his hand and looked startled for a moment, not used to being questioned about his assertions.

"That's interesting, but rumor or gossip, or even past behavior isn't enough to get someone in trouble, unless there is evidence against them. Find proof, and I'll listen, but until then? I've got work to do." Luke nodded to the other Commander, and grabbed Wedge's arm to pull him with as he left the hanger. He waited until they reached his office again and the door was closed. "It was Wes, wasn't it?"

Wedge nodded, "With those colors? Absolutely. That jerk didn't even invite me to help."


	59. Drag

It was a punishment duty, so it was supposed to be boring, but Wes Janson wasn't about to let that stop him from finding something good about his assignment. He was sitting at a lone desk, one that usually didn't have any use at all except to block people from getting into the hanger from the side entrance. They had put him on watch here, giving him some minor reports to edit, because he had _supposedly_ pulled a prank on an arrogant wormy Captain that was too uptight to take a joke.

He frowned, still trying to remember which prank that had been. Wes had been busy lately, as this was an exceptionally boring base and the Rogues had been stuck with some really boring escort work. Of course Wedge and Tycho seemed to think it was great because they had gotten caught up on all of their reports, had multiple Sims running for the pilots and even found a few new people to replace those lost in recent missions. Wes was just bored and Hobbie refused to play.

The edits hadn't taken long; why they wanted him to check Tycho's spelling was a mystery as the Alderaanian probably had much better grammar that he did. Busy work to keep him at the desk, he figured. A droid had already picked up the datapads to return them to Wedge's office, and now Wes was just sitting there with nothing to do except watch the door. The assignment was just dragging by, and he was looking through the desk drawers for something to keep busy with when he found the box.

It was a small box, some miscellaneous thing that the mechs used to clean small parts, long wires that had some fuzzy stuff glued to the outside. They were all different colors to show different fluid leaks from engines. That was what gave Wes the idea that kept him busy for the next three hours, until his shift was over and Hobbie was supposed to pick him up for dinner.

It kept him so busy that he didn't even notice when Hobbie had arrived, and his friend stared at him for a long time before interrupting. "Wes, what are you doing?"

Wes looked around the top of the desk, and the floor around his feet. There were several little wire people in various poses all around him. "Building an army. We're going to take over the base. Want to join our side? We have cookies, or we will when we take over the mess later."

Hobbie nodded, a small smile on his face to play along, "Well, it's time for you to come with me to dinner, so perhaps that can wait?"

"Sure, but I'm taking my army with me." Wes grabbed an empty box and brushed the little figures inside. "I'll need them later."


	60. Wise

They had all had too much to drink, but that was to be expected after losing Ibtisam on their last mission. Wedge wasn't feeling like being a good commander and stopping them, so he set up a sabaac game, convinced Mirax that a few bottles of whiskey, the good stuff, was necessary, and closed the pilots lounge to anyone but the Rogues. Some of the others had already left to get rest, or to comfort Nrin as he had taken the loss harder than anyone else. A small group remained though, and the alcohol seemed to have the effect of making Hobbie more inclined to answer personal questions and Tycho more inclined to ask them.

"So, Hobbie, what made you so wise that you bolted from the Imps so soon after the Academy?" Tycho was doing poorly at the game, which they could usually count on, but he was trying to distract he others as a last ditch attempt to salvage the hand.

Hobbie gave him a dirty look, "I only went to the Academy because I wanted to fly." He stared down at his cards for a few seconds, "You know, Biggs always called me a 'striver' and we really didn't get along at first. I had to be that way though, so I could get a good posting. Defecting would have been harder to do if I hadn't as much authority as I was given on the Rand Ecliptic." He shrugged and looked at Wes, waiting for his friend to lay down a bet.

Wes was looking at him instead of his own cards though, "Striver? As in ambitious and always following the rules? Was that really hard for you to pretend to be like that?" He grinned and Hobbie smacked his shoulder in mock annoyance.

"No, I can see Hobbie as the responsible type." Tycho smirked, "Especially if he stays away from you, Wes. I keep telling Wedge that you are a bad influence on him, but he doesn't believe me."

Wedge was shaking his head, sipping his drink and watching his three friends. "I do believe you, I just thought that the bad influence was less important than the results that usually came from it."

"What results? The bucket of foam they had over your doorway three weeks ago, or the time they painted spots on Luke's X-Wing, or how about the time when they moved all of the furniture in the senior staff lounge into a storage closet and hosted a game of smash ball?" Tycho laid down a cautious bet, before looking up to see the other three all smiling.

"Those were good times. And yes, those results were good even though they eventually got into trouble." Wedge set his drink aside to study his cards again, "I don't know if I should tell you this, but I will anyway. When Luke was Rogue Leader he used to tell me that he worried about you, Hobbie and Tycho, because you were both quiet. Too quiet was how he put it. He thought that after losses like you've both had that the quiet ones are too self-destructive, and that Wes was a good influence on Hobbie if it kept him doing crazy stunts instead of putting himself into suicidal situations."

"So was Tycho a lost cause, or did Luke see something else being an influence on him?" Wes was grinning, and didn't seem to mind when Tycho smacked his shoulder as Hobbie had done earlier.

"I think Wedge was given that responsibility." Hobbie looked a bit devious, not quite smiling, "That and all of the reports to keep him busy. I guess I lucked out on missing the official data work of command."

"You know, one day I'll command Rogue Squadron, and you'll be my XO, Hobbie, just so I can make you do all of that data work." Tycho nodded seriously, "I'll even have you do all of the reports on Wes's misdeeds since you'll have the inside perspective on them."

"I'm not worried. Wedge will never leave us, right Wedge?" Hobbie glanced at their commanding officer, "It would just be too mean to leave Tycho in charge."

Wedge rolled his eyes, "I think I might retire one day just to be that mean to you."

Wes was looking thoughtful, which caught their attention as they were waiting for his next play, and he opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and placed his bet instead.

"What?" Wedge kicked him under the table, "Spill it, Wes."

"I'm going to be black and blue after this game, with the way you three are abusing me. I was just thinking, about what you said Luke was concerned about. We all know Tycho's loss, but what loss was he referring to for Hobbie?" Wes was staring at Hobbie, concerned, "You've never said anything to me about a loss."

Wedge looked to Hobbie for a moment, wondering if he had said too much, but Hobbie waved a hand dismissively. "It's okay, it's just that it was insignificant to what others were dealing with so I never felt the need to talk about it."

"And now?" Wes really did know how to push.

"It's just that when I defected there were people who took it a lot more personally than I intended. After I joined the Rebellion I went on a few missions with Biggs, lost a second limb." He snorted, "Got sick on Yavin, and had a few months before I could try to send a message to my family on Ralltiir to let them know I was alive. When I heard back from my parents they told me that I didn't need to bother visiting or contacting them again. That I no longer had a family."

There was a moment of silence as the others absorbed that, and then Wes was slapping him on the back, "Their loss because you have us as family now and we're the best."

Hobbie nodded, slowly, but continued staring at the cards so he wouldn't have to look at any of them. "At the risk of inflating your already huge ego, I'd have to agree."


	61. Title

Wedge was waiting at the head of the small table. Having just given out assignments for planning groups, or pairings really, he just had a few more things to do before he could meet with this newly assigned partner to start working on their assigned piece of the puzzle. Almost everyone had left immediately after the briefing, except Hobbie was hanging back, a look on his face that Wedge didn't remember seeing in a long time.

"Was there something else you need, Hobbie?"

Hobbie hesitated, but finally seemed to convince himself to say what was on his mind. "Commander Antilles, I had a question about the pairings."

"Alright, what did you want to ask?" Wedge frowned at the use of his title, Hobbie wasn't usually formal unless something was wrong.

"Have you ever noticed that when the Rogues break into teams, that you almost always work with Wes or Tycho? And usually whichever one of those two that you are not working with, you assign me to work with."

Wedge thought for a moment, "I guess that's right. I hadn't really thought about it. Why?"

"Have you ever thought about why you never assign us to work together? Is there a reason that you don't want to work with me?"

That was what the look was; insecurity. Hobbie hadn't seemed insecure in his place with the Rogues since he first was assigned to the squadron, and Wedge wondered at why he would feel insecure in their work assignments now. "It isn't that I don't want to work with you. It just seems that you work best with Tycho or Wes and so do I. Because we've worked together for so long."

"But not the two of us, ever." Hobbie looked down at the table. "Wes said something and it made me start wondering." He sighed and glanced toward the door. "Never mind, it was just a stupid thought."

"Wait, Hobbie. There has never been a moment of doubt in my mind that we would work well together, as a pair, but I also know the other Rogues well enough and that is what drives a lot of the assignments. Tycho would kill me, and make it look like an accident, if I made him work alone with Wes after that little situation back on Hoth, and I know you can exert some control over Wes when he needs supervision. I also know that you and Tycho work really well together and sometimes come up with ideas that no one else has thought of, so assigning the two of you together makes sense when facing those problems that require novel solutions."

Hobbie was nodding, but Wedge had the feeling he wasn't listening as much as just going along with whatever excuse would be given. "It's okay, I understand. I should go so I can meet up with Wes and start working on this stuff."


	62. Crazy

Wes hadn't said anything when he had grabbed Hobbie's arm and began dragging him in the opposite direction of the hanger. Hobbie was curious, but he had learned not to ask when Wes did crazy things and he didn't have the energy to deal with the odd explanations. He definitely did not have the energy for it today, so he let his friend take him where ever it was he wanted them to go.

They didn't stop until they reached the pilot's lounge, and though there were others there no one looked at them as Wes brought Hobbie over to a large structure made from pillows and cushions. It was the ugliest thing Hobbie had seen in years, but Wes pointed at it and grinned before walking to the other side, bring Hobbie with him. Hobbie did pull away then, shaking off the hand that had been on his arm.

"Come on Hobbie, we have a couple hours to play and I'm going to make you have a good time even if I have to hold you down and tickle you in front of the other Rogues." He gestured to the opening near the floor, "Now get in this thing or I'll have to get Tycho to make it an order."

Hobbie sighed and looked closely at the small entrance to the pillow cave. "I don't think there is enough room under there."

"Sure there is, I tested it out earlier with Corran." Wes rubbed his arm briefly, "He pinches, so watch out if you ever have to share a small space with him. It must be a Jedi thing, Luke was always pinching me too." He gestured to the opening, "Get in."

Hobbie shrugged, still not having the energy to argue, and crawled into the structure. There was a thin padding on the floor and he saw bottles and a basket against the far wall of pillows. A small light source illuminated the space, but Hobbie couldn't see what was powering it, and he didn't want to ask. He rolled to his side once he was completely inside the fort and then Wes was nudging his legs to move further as he entered as well.

"Okay, now what?" Hobbie turned so he was laying on his other side, facing Wes.

"Now we have a drink, and some lunch, and you tell me what has been bothering you. Is Tycho a tyrant? The new Rogues boring and predictable? You miss me so much you can't go on without me? Something is wrong, and I am going to find out what it is, no matter how long it takes. So spill it now to avoid the tortures I have prepared for later." Wes grabbed two of the bottles, opening them before handing one to Hobbie.

Hobbie took a sip, lomin-ale, it was the favored drink of the new Rogues. He shook his head, "Do you know the feeling, when you are in a situation or a place that feels like it should be familiar but everything is different or strange?"

Wes frowned, "Not really." He opened the basket and brought out two wrapped sandwiches. He rolled to his side before sitting up to eat, waiting until Hobbie was also seated upright before handing the second sandwich to him.

"Well, that is what being a Rogue feels like for me." Hobbie took a big bite out of the sandwich. "Maybe it's just going from training others to flying missions again, but if you don't feel like that with the Wraiths, maybe it isn't." He shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. "I don't know. The flying is familiar, and Tycho is familiar, but everything else is different and I don't really know the new Rogues. They bonded over all of the crazy stuff Wedge had them doing, and even bonded with Tycho since he's been with them since they trained together. And I – " He trailed off, eating more of the sandwich.

"You don't feel like you fit in anymore?" Wes hesitated and then decided against saying anything else, finishing his food and the bottle of ale. As soon as he was done he set the bottle aside and laid back, using a cushion as a pillow. "I feel like that too some times, with the Wraiths, but it's because we're in command and they are busy bonding with each other. There is a natural distance because of command."

Hobbie finished his sandwich and laid back down on his side, facing Wes again. "It feels stupid, but I just wish that things were back the way they used to be with you and Wedge back with the Rogues. Tycho is a friend, but he's understandably busy and we just don't talk like we used to anymore, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. Tycho is worried about you though. He said that you've been really quiet, that you spend your free time by yourself, and that you only seem happy when you get to shoot something."

"I do like shooting things." Hobbie nodded, "He doesn't need to worry though."

"Okay, but I'm worried too. We're your friends and we just want you to be happy. At least occasionally." Wes rolled to his side again, coming closer to Hobbie, "And if I have to resort to cruel and unusual punishment to make it happen, you know I will bring out the big guns. So you talk, or I tickle."

Hobbie decided to talk, and if the Rogues in the lounge occasionally heard giggles coming from the pile of cushions, they were too polite to mention it later.


	63. Mushy

Wedge wiped his cheek, not bothering to hide what he was doing. "Force, Wes, what's was that for?" He made a face and Tycho laughed.

"Yeah, Wes, go kiss your own wingmate." Tycho waved off their friend, and then stopped, "Wait, that sounded wrong. I'm not going to kiss you Wedge, I promise."

"Good, because I'd tell Winter if you did." Wedge frowned, "No more sugar for Wes, he's too happy right now. Hobbie should be here to deal with this abuse instead of us."

"Hobbie was the only one of us who is smart, I guess, because he got out of here before having to deal with any of this. I think I might follow his example too. When Wes gets all mushy about the Rogues, we all know what happens. You can stay and get kissed again though, it might be the only action you'll get, Wedge." Tycho laughed again, jumping out of the way when Wedge tried to hit him.

"Traitor. I should tell Wes to kiss you next just to get you back for that."


	64. Possible

Hobbie was laying in the middle of the floor, sprawling really. Wedge stopped short, blocking the doorway, and glared at the pilot sitting on the other side of the room. "Wes, did you kill Hobbie?"

"What? No, of course not! I just, maybe, kinda got him a little drunk." Wes wouldn't look at him and that was a bad sign.

"Really? Then why don't I believe you?" Wedge stepped into the room, moving closer to stare at his prone pilot and friend. "Why is he in the middle of the floor?"

Wes shrugged, "I don't know?"

"You actually don't know, or you don't want to tell me? Where is Tycho?"

"I'm not telling." Wes crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring Wedge's sigh, "Tycho is over by the potted plants."

Wedge turned to look, spotting legs coming out from one side of the planters. "Why is Tycho back there on the floor?"

"Alcohol." Wes nodded, "Lots of it. I kinda got him drunk too." He shrugged again, looking disinterested.

Wedge stared at Wes for several seconds, trying to think of any possible explanation for what he was seeing. "Do I want to know?"

Wes laughed, "No Wedge, you really don't. Trust me this time."


	65. Hope

"Do you ever think about what you would do after all of this is over?" Hobbie gestured with his bottle, as though encompassing everything around them and Wes turned to look. They were in the hanger with their X-Wings, off-duty and just waiting for something else to happen. Others were still working, the techs and mechanics and even some pilots running around looking after their fighters. Everyone seemed to have something to do or somewhere to go."

Wes shrugged, "I guess. Sometimes, but it's hard to look that far into the future. I'm usually thinking that I could die next week so why bother planning for a future that probably won't happen."

"Yeah, me too, but sometimes I think about what would happen if I do live through all of this." Hobbie frowned, "I went to the Academy, but the only formal education there was flying and killing. I don't want to end up as a smuggler or bounty hunter, or pilot for hire even. Wouldn't it be nice to have a few years where you didn't have to worry about someone double-crossing you or shooting you in the back?"

Wes looked at him more closely. "I don't think it would be possible for me to have a normal life, after all of this. We kill people, and that isn't really good for later prospects." He shrugged, "Maybe we'll just never be able to retire."

Hobbie was nodding slowly, "I thought that you might have hope for the future, but if you don't then I know I'm doomed."

"Don't worry, we can stick together. If we both live maybe we can do something fun with our retirement, like Ewok herding."

Hobbie's eyes narrowed, "You can't herd Ewoks."

"Well, maybe you can't, but I bet that I could." Wes laughed and punched Hobbie's shoulder, "Stop worrying about the future, or I'll start planning our Ewok business ventures."


	66. Shock

It was the bright colors that caught his attention first, not feeling anything wrong with his body, but noticing that everything around him had suddenly come into sharp focus. The pain was a close second, blossoming in his shoulder and carrying down his arm. He almost dropped his blaster then, but the reflexive clenching of his hand saved him and he was able to fire off another burst at the Stormies. The third thing he noticed was the wetness as his sleeve rapidly soaked with blood, telling him that the wound hadn't been caused by a weapon that cauterized as it damaged, and had simply made a hole through him.

Hobbie stumbled suddenly, and Wes turned to look at him, almost getting hit by one of the other weapons in play. Janson turned again, firing off several shots as he dove across the hallway, and rolled to Hobbie's position.

"I thought that I told you not to get shot." Wes was glancing at him for only a few seconds at a time, while keeping them covered by several well-placed shots. "Gavin should be here soon, can you keep up?"

Hobbie nodded, not sure of his voice, and the world went from vivid color to grey scale in a heartbeat.

"Sithspawn." Wes touched the side of his head, trying to get his attention. "We need to get the bleeding stopped. Going into shock?"

Hobbie couldn't answer, not even to nod this time, but the color of his skin was giving Wes the answer he needed. He leaned out into the hall again, firing off several shots and suddenly it was quiet. Hobbie wondered if his hearing had gone too, but Wes was dropping the blaster and grabbing at his emergency kit for bandages.

"Hang on, I'll get this on you and we can try meeting Gavin on his way up here, just stick with me, okay?" He swore again, noticing that Hobbie was shivering, and non-responsive, "Just stay with me Hobbie, or I'll tell Wedge and you know how he'll react. Kitchen duty for the both of us for weeks."

"Tubers." It was almost inaudible, but Wes took that as a positive sign anyway.

"Yep, you know how Wedge loves his root vegetables." He pulled Hobbie upright, using his strength to keep his friend mostly upright, "I've got you now, just one foot in front of the other, right?"


	67. Bomb

They were treating him with a hands-off policy, officially, and unofficially as though he were a bomb about to explode all over Wedge's career. Tycho couldn't really blame them, no matter how he might feel on a day-to-day basis, he would never want to be a danger to his friends, Wedge's career, or their cause in general. There were too many important things that he would ruin if their fears about him were correct.

That didn't mean that he didn't try to stretch every inch of latitude out of their orders and restrictions though. Placing himself in danger for the well-being of others was easy, and he didn't have to think twice about flying into battle, unarmed, to gather up Rogues who were in danger by being EV. He just did it and hoped for the best. It allowed him to feel useful for a short time at least.

The restrictions kept a distance between himself and the new Rogues though, and made him miss the old days, which really weren't all that long ago. He got messages from Hobbie and Wes occasionally, and spent time with Wedge, but it would never be the same as it had before his capture. It was another turn in his life that made everything feel out of control, and after losing home and family that control was all he had been able to cling to for so long. To have it stripped away, all at once and then again more slowly as he trained this new squad, made him question his place in the universe.

They treated him as though he was a bomb, and in protecting themselves from him turned his life into the aftermath of an explosion. He was left making decisions on what was worth salvaging and searching for fragments of his past that could be put back together. Tycho was so tired of always having to put it all back together; always just one more time. One more time, and waiting until there isn't anything left.


	68. Milk

There was food spread all across the table and down onto the benches and floor, like the leftovers of an extremely violent party. Cereals and smashed rolls littered all of the surfaces, while spilled milk and caf ran between them like a sea around islands. Wes shook his head, and then feeling something wet and mushy fall out of his hair he shuddered. "This was not my fault Wedge, I did not start it . . . this time."

Wedge glared at him for a second before returning to his surveillance of the mess. "Really, Wes, and I'm supposed to believe you after what happened the last time there was a food fight?"

"I'm serious, I did not start this." Wes looked around to see if he could spot the guilty party. Hobbie was scowling, and had some kind of mashed grain down the front of his coveralls, and Tycho looked exhausted, but had some kind of fruit smeared along his cheek. They were both giving dirty looks to someone further down the line of pilots, and Wes followed this line of sight. So did Wedge.

"Corran? You started this?" Wedge sounded so shocked that Wes gave him a mock look of outrage.

"He did, and I resent that you seem so surprised but were ready to lock me away before hearing what happened." Wes crossed his arms over his chest, but relaxed slightly as Hobbie nudged him with an elbow.

Corran didn't seem to care that they were all glaring at him, he took credit proudly. "I did start this and I'd do it again."

"Why? Have the sudden urge to clean the entire mess hall? Because that is what you will be doing for the rest of the morning." Wedge stepped cautiously through the remnants of breakfast foods on the floor, getting as close to Corran as he dared.

"It was payback for the incident with my X-Wing and the purple ooze." Corran looked away for a second, remembering the way his fighter still smelled like overripe fruit. "They had it coming."

"Really. Well, I don't think your food fight had the consequences you were hoping for because they don't look chastised, they look ready for revenge." Corran and Wedge both looked down the line of pilots, all looking tired, messy and annoyed. "I would ask if any of them wanted to volunteer to help you clean this up, but I don't think they are that forgiving at the moment."

Wes piped up from down the line, "You know, Corran, they say that revenge is a dish best served cold, and this cereal is all cold."

"Shut up Wes." Wedge sighed, "Everyone, except Corran, is dismissed. Corran, have fun cleaning this up, then get cleaned up yourself so you can join us for Sims." He watched his pilots move into action, and wished for the seventh time that morning that Luke was there to deal with it instead. He was going to need the patience of a Jedi to get through the rest of the day.


	69. Taboo

Wes slapped himself across the face, he had to still be drunk because there was no way in the Force that what he was seeing was real. He didn't wake up though, and now his cheek hurt, and the apparition was laughing at him.

"Tycho?" It nodded, and Wes took another step into his living room, "How did you get into my apartment? And why aren't you wearing any pants?"

"You gave me the codes when you moved in, remember? You said if we ever had a problem we could always count on you and your brand new couch." Tycho shifted slightly, "I had a slight probably with Winter last night and she decided that I should spend the night elsewhere. I thought that it would be better to come here than have to explain it all to Wedge."

"And the pants?" Wes tried not to stare, but it was really hard not to look when his friend was sprawled half naked on his sofa. It wasn't like he hadn't seen it all before either, after sharing quarters and space on missions for so many years it was inevitable that everyone saw everyone else naked at least once and after they got used to that fact nudity wasn't taboo any longer. It was how he knew about Wedge's secret tattoo and a birthmark that Hobbie had in a very interesting place.

Tycho blushed and covered himself with the blanket he had pilfered from one of the closets, "I didn't want them to get wrinkled?"

"Is that an answer or are you just looking for a way out of this conversation, because I don't think I'll let it go that easily. I might have to tell Wedge, and Hobbie, and maybe even Winter eventually."

"That's the answer." Tycho nodded, "Mind if I out them back on now?"

Wes shook his head, "I've got to wake up, make some caf when you finish, alright?" He turned back toward the refresher, ready to wash those images out of his head for the rest of the day, if not the rest of his life. "I'm gonna need loads of it."


	70. Mountainous

Every time he saw a white capped mountain, Luke shivered, remembering Hoth. It wasn't that Hoth was particularly mountainous, or didn't seem so when they were there, but everywhere you looked there were snow covered mountains. There hadn't been much else to look at when he was out on those long patrols.

It didn't say much for his Jedi training if he could let small things like the shape of the horizon bother him, but it was low on his list of priorities also. There were too many other things to do than to worry about how certain smells, sounds or sights bothered him. And almost no one noticed anyway. Only Leia, and she just shook her head and gave him that rueful smile that said she felt exactly the same way.


	71. Porter

"I'm not going in there." Hobbie crossed his arms, frowning and generally looking like a petulant child. The accommodations were not exactly what he had in mind when he agreed to go on a very short mission with Wes. They deserved a decent place to sleep for all of the trouble they had with Intelligence agents recently, and agreeing to this favor for the NRI once again.

Wes understood the feeling, and secretly agreed, but they didn't have much choice. "We have to stay here. The porter already took our bags and they might not give them back." Wes looked around the entry of the establishment, "They might not give them back anyway, but if we go to our room maybe they will be there."

Hobbie gave him a look filled with skepticism. "You just want to go to our room so we can start drinking what you put in your bag at our last stop."

"Maybe. It will make it easier to sleep here without worrying about someone trying to stab us at the bar, or that there are bugs in the carpets."

"Carpets? I'd be more worried about bugs in the bedding." Hobbie sighed, "But if they took our bags, you know what Wedge would say."

"Don't remind me, I'm going to ignore his voice in my head the next time he 'volunteers' us for one of these missions." Wes took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and went inside their dilapidated hotel, Hobbie following only a step behind.


	72. Creator

The door to Wedge's office was locked. Wes frowned at it for several seconds, not sure of why he had been called to the office if it wasn't even going to let him inside. He hit the door call, letting Wedge know he was there, if Wedge was even inside, and waited for several more seconds. Hobbie really should have been there to take the abuse instead. He had a small worry, for just a very short time, that it had been a prank to call him away from the socializing the Wraiths had been doing in the pilot lounge, but Wedge wasn't the type to call him somewhere for such a petty prank.

Wes checked his com again, just in case he had missed another call, but while he stared at the device, and shook it just in case, the door finally opened and Wedge was grabbing him and pulling him inside. He stumbled before he made it all the way into the office, and then the door was shutting behind him and they were standing in the dark.

"Wedge, why are the lights out?" Wes reached out, feeling for anything around himself now that Wedge had let go of his arm. "Are you taking funny holos of me again?"

Wedge grabbed him again, pulling him over to an old couch and pushing him until he sat. "No, but I have to show you something and you had better not have known about this before and not told me."

Wes could hear the glare in the words, "Know about what? Have you been drinking? Did Tycho tell you about that . . . never mind, you would have mentioned him before. Ignore that, what did you need to show me?"

Wedge passed a datapad over. "Someone told me about these anonymous posts that were appearing and I thought that I should check them out, just in case someone was leaking classified information. They are not, but what they are posting is pretty unnerving anyway."

Wes glanced through the file that was on the screen, skimming through what appeared to be fictionalized episodes between the Wraiths, and blushed. "I did not know about that. Force, who else has read this? Do the Rogues know?"

Wedge laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. "The someone who told me about this was Corran. I think it is safe to say that all of the Rogues know about it and have read it."

"Sithspawn! No wonder I can't get a date lately," Wes paused, "and Hobbie kept laughing in that last message he sent. He knew and he didn't even warn me. I need a new best friend."

"Don't look at me, I thought that Tycho would have given me a heads-up and he didn't say anything."

Wes was silent, reading more of the story on the datapad. "You know, I bet I know who the creator of this stuff is and they are going to be in so much trouble when I catch them. Face and Ton; remember that comment Face made to us last week when we were finishing the briefing? That exact sentence is right here." He passed the datapad back to Wedge. "You should have thought this through a little better though; you sounded a little odd when you called for me and I was with the Wraiths. Considering this story, is it really a good idea for the two of us to be sitting alone in your office, in the dark? They might think the stories are true, and then I'll never get another date because people will be sure I'm cheating on you, and really Wedge, no offense but you are not my type."

"Wes, if you can get revenge and figure out a way to get rid of all of these stories, you can cheat on me all you want."


	73. Handle

There was no going back. He had killed too many people for his life to ever go back to what once had been called happy-go-lucky. Some of them caused no guilt at all because they were actively trying to kill him at the time they died. Some of them still caused him trouble sleeping though; the ones caught in the crossfire of battles and who were in the wrong place at the wrong time when Stormies opened up on Rebel groups. They never hesitated in returning fire, and people always died. People who didn't need to die, who shouldn't have died.

Wes sighed, leaning back into the worn cushions of the couch. He had been having such a good day. He pranked Tycho and Hobbie had gotten blamed for it, teased Gavin until the kid blushed, and had even won a few hands of sabaac. Something changed though, and he wasn't quite sure of what it was. Something that he overheard, or that was said to him that struck him in a vulnerable spot. He frowned, not liking this feeling.

He didn't have many dark moments, but when they came it always hit harder than he expected and took him deeper than he ever wanted to go. Even Hobbie couldn't break through to him sometimes, which scared both of them. Hobbie had dark moments too, but his usual brand of pessimism allowed him to hide the truly dangerous depressions. Wes was usually upbeat so it was noticed by the others sooner and he could only take so much of Wedge's concern or Tycho's sympathy. He never thought he deserved either.

When he had stopped laughing during the game, and then remained quiet he could see Hobbie figuring out what was going on; Hobbie knew his mercurial moods. They looked at each other for a moment between hands and Hobbie tipped his head to indicate one of the couches in the darkened area of the lounge. Wes knew that he could make an escape and Hobbie would cover for him, so he snapped off a quick joke and left the game. Hobbie would likely follow after another couple of hands and no one else would need to know that Wes was having a mood. He wouldn't try to talk Wes out of brooding, for which Wes was grateful, but he could understand where the mood came from and what to listen for when Wes was ready to talk again.

Wes frowned, trying to relax and ignore the noise from the others. He didn't want to spoil their evening, but sometimes the loud conversations about nothing important and all of the distractions that they engaged in to avoid thinking about the missions bothered him. Mostly because he used those coping mechanisms too often and wished they would actually work for longer than a night or a week, or even a single mission. He wanted to be able to handle all of what they were throwing at him, without resorting to quick fixes that would only patch the damage until after the war. They all knew that there wouldn't be time to repair the emotional damage until later, if they lived that long.

A shadow crossed in front of him and he looked up to see Hobbie. His friend gave him a grim smile and sat next to him on the couch, not saying anything. There was too much understanding between them that didn't require words.


	74. Harsh

Wedge paused mid-bite and closed his eyes, not wanting to think about what had just flown past his ear. He chewed slowly, opening his eyes again and glared at Wes. "I am going to pretend that I didn't see that, and you are going to go clean it up and forget that you were starting anything."

Wedge must have looked serious enough because Wes merely nodded and went around the table to clean whatever it was from the floor, depositing it in a trash receptacle near the door before returning. He sat back down in his regular chair and applied himself, diligently, to finishing his meal.

Tycho snickered, and Wedge gave him a dirty look. "Sorry, I'm not trying to encourage him, I swear. I just need to learn that look you gave him so I can get him to follow orders that quickly."

"Careful Tycho, you might be learning it by having it directed at you. Not enough sleep, Wedge?" Hobbie wasn't usually one to diffuse the tricky conversations, but he also wasn't in the mood to have all of his friends upset with each other for the rest of the day. He waved off the harsh look he received from Wedge, "Have Tycho give the briefing after lunch and go take a nap, you know you can delegate occasionally."

"I'd be happy to lead the briefing, no problem at all." Tycho nodded in agreement with the idea. "We were up really late last night getting all of the maps and details organized and I know you were up after that working on a report. Go rest for a while and I'll come to get you as soon as I get the squad into a Sim after the briefing."

Wedge frowned, not liking the way that they were pushing him, but knowing that they were correct. His jaw clenched as he thought of a reply, and then realized that if his response was tension that he should do as they suggested because it would affect all of his work for the day. "Alright, after lunch I'll take a break, but I had better see Tycho right after the briefing, so do not conveniently forget to wake me then." He smiled slyly, "Or Wes will have kitchen duty for the next week."

Wedge stood and picked up his tray, still smiling as Wes sputtered and objected, and Tycho and Hobbie laughed.


	75. Fire

The whole building was on fire. Hobbie swore under his breath and then cursed himself silently as he started coughing. He had woken in the middle of the night, his throat and lungs sore from the smoke that was starting to fill the room, and groped to find his robe over the back of his chair as the fire alert system suddenly sounded. It was a good thing he was so messy; a pair of slacks were still on the floor and he slipped those on over his shorts before leaving the bedroom. He didn't have time to grab much, but secured his id and a blaster on the way to the door of the small apartment.

There were others moving into the hallway from their assigned rooms and he could see Wes up ahead, so he made his way over as everyone began evacuating. "Attack? I don't think I heard anything before the alarm sounded."

Wes shook his head, "Don't know, but I don't remember hearing anything either." He shoved the fire door open at the end of the hall and people started streaming past him, and Hobbie. "I hope everyone is getting out." He coughed into his hand and ushered Hobbie into the stairwell ahead of himself, hurrying down the steps until they reached the outer emergency exit and finally had some clean night air to breathe.

There were several people milling about the courtyard, all looking around themselves for friends or up at their burning living quarters. A fire suppressant team was starting at the other side of the building, droids and a variety of Rebels trying to put out the fire as people still were leaving the structure. Wes yawned and Hobbie looked at him carefully, "Tired, or having trouble getting enough oxygen?"

"Tired. I had only just gotten to sleep, I think. It looks like we had the same thought though." He patted the blaster strapped to his thigh. "I guess those drills were good for something, though I wish I had thought to grab a shirt. It's cold tonight."

Hobbie shrugged out of his robe, "I've got a shirt, so you can take this. It might be snug, but at least it's warmer than nothing." He handed it to his friend, helping Wes get both arms into it. "Someone will get us all inside for a med check soon, so maybe we should head over there before the rush. I doubt we'll be getting back into our rooms tonight."

Wes nodded, already stepping in the direction of the med center. "Good idea, I bet Wedge won't hear about this until morning and won't take the fire as an excuse to be late. Want to see if we can crash on his floor?"


	76. Tease

Something was tickling his ear. Hobbie ignored it, hoping that it was just a stray bug and that it would go away. He was too tired to deal with anything at the moment, having laid down as soon as they had gotten back to their quarters after the last mission. Something brushed his hair above his ear again, and he frowned, not wanting to wake up all the way. He batted at the side of his head a little, trying to brush whatever it was away.

His movement wasn't enough though and the touch returned, waking him up a little more and allowing him to think about the situation. He moved quickly, his hand flailing out and up towards his own head, and there was a loud thump.

"Ow!"

Hobbie sighed, opening his eyes finally, to see what he had done. He was pretty sure he already knew, but had to feign ignorance to appear innocent of malice. Wes was sitting next to the bed, clutching his nose and scowling. "What are you doing down there?"

"You hit me. Did you have to hit me?"

"Oops." He said it without conviction and pulled himself up, so that he was sitting. "What were you doing to my hair? Did you put something in it?" Hobbie patted the side of his head carefully but didn't feel anything weird.

"No, I didn't do anything to your hair. I was just teasing." Wes got up off the floor, still holding his nose. "You didn't have to hit me."

"Wes, there is no way that you can make this my fault. I didn't go out of my way to tease you, after all, so suck it up and go away." He sighed again, trying to wave Wes out of his room, and then gave up, laying back down and rolling onto his side so he could ignore his friend. "Go away and I won't retaliate this time."


	77. Insect

He hated this base. It was even worse than Hoth because while Hoth was cold and boring, this place had humidity and far too many insects. Wes had woken that morning to find a large bug sitting on his face. He shuddered, hoping the memory would fade soon. It was unlikely though, as Hobbie had come running as soon as he shrieked, and would no doubt be reminding him of the incident for years to come.

Wes sighed, wiping sweat from his brow and leaning against the struts of his X-Wing. He wished they were flying but there were too many ground duties to take care of this day, and they wouldn't be going up unless there was an emergency. He was tempted to fake an emergency, but Wedge was looking at him too closely and probably wouldn't believe it. Their cockpits were not cold, but they weren't too hot either, and he just wanted a decent temperature for a few hours.

He scratched the back of his neck and looked around the hanger for a moment. The other Rogues were engrossed in their tasks, though Hobbie seemed to feel his gaze and waved briefly before going back to his instrument panel. One of the techs was helping him with a diagnostic, and Wes was supposed to be doing something similar but his assigned tech was nowhere to be found. She was probably worried about his charming personality and dashing good looks. Wes grinned, nodding to himself, and decided to climb the ladder at the side of his fighter while he waited.

He reached the top of the ladder and felt something crunch under his fingers. "Ugh." He shook his hand a little and the crushed bug fell to the floor below. Its innards were still smeared on his hand though and he wiped his fingers on the coveralls he was wearing, turning the orange to a sickly green color. He was about to continue up into his X-Wing when he saw something come flying at his head from the corner of his eye.

Wes ducked for cover, not quite suppressing the instinctive yelp, and clutched the sides of the ladder as a large winged insect dove at him. It flew past him quickly and he sagged in relief, until he heard a laugh from below.

Wedge was standing there, looking up at him. "I guess I know what to threaten you with when you start driving me crazy."


	78. Known

Wedge covered his face, hoping that he wasn't blushing, though he suspected that he was. Tycho was smirking at him from across the table and Wes was laughing loudly and poking his shoulder. "Stop it, Wes."

"Oh Wedge, you're so cute when you're embarrassed. We need holos of this right now. I want to show the rest of the Rogues how red you get." Wes stopped poking him, physically, but couldn't stop from jabbing at him with words.

Tycho wasn't any help, and began laughing as well. "Sorry Wedge, but this is the fourth time this week. Maybe you should give autographs."

"We could print copies of that Wanted poster you were featured on since so many women seem to think that you were irresistible because of it." Hobbie leaned back, looking completely serious and Wedge look up at him frowning under the hand that still covered half of his face.

"You too Hobbie? I thought that at least I'd have one friend who had some sense." He put his hands flat on the table. "Traitors."

Wes laughed again, "Oh come on Wedge, you know we just enjoy making you squirm. It isn't our fault that you have fans everywhere we go."

"And that they tend to mob you and make silly requests or horribly worded attempts at seduction. That last once had less subtlety than a Hutt's dancing girl." Tycho shifted on the bench, nudging Hobbie's arm. "It could be worse; they could all be trying to get Wes."

"Hey!" Wes scowled and then brightened suddenly. "Hey! That sounds like a good idea to me. Can we print my Wanted Posters and hand those out?"

"The one with the dress or the one without?" Hobbie smirked, gesturing with his bottle, "Oh wait, I think I lost the one without, so we'll just have to go with the dress picture. You'll be sure to be well-known with that poster."


End file.
